The Lonely Path
by ThurstonRam
Summary: They were Dalish, walkers of the lonely path, but they were not meant to walk alone. They were supposed to have their clan. Theron did not and it was Marethari's fault. But the boy required power. And power required blood.
1. A New Game

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age Origins or the characters.

Dragon Age Origins: The Lonely Path

Chapter 1: A new game

He was losing. _King vulnerable will lose in three moves unless knight is repositioned. _It seemed that he was always just playing to not lose whenever he challenged her. His eyes met hers, his blue and calculating and hers a kind, wizened green. Keeper Marethari always had a smiling indulgent mien that spoke of a carefree wisdom. That smile was infuriating him at the moment, it was too easy, too relaxed; that smile indicated a lack of effort, whether it was an act or not. And he suspected it was not an act, the Keeper was just that much better than him. Her wrinkled hands quickly responded to his move. He was losing.

"Checkmate, Theron," the Keeper's eyes held a kind laughter.

_Correction, not losing, I have lost. Flattery will amuse her; use that to your advantage. _"Well played Keeper, your planning and strategic capabilities are as phenomenal as ever," Theron smiled. He hoped that she would allow him to wander the forest despite his loss. He needed ingredients, as his own rations were getting low.

"And why would they not be up to their usual standards, da'len? Is that a subtle jab at my age?" Marethari gazed lightly, lifting her head as the oncoming wind rustled the trees around the aravel, knocking Theron's king over.

_Creepy. _Theron looked at his fallen chess piece and smiled at the theatrics. "Of course not Keeper. You are the equal of any Elven woman. My offer for union still stands . . ."

Marethari laughed, it was obvious flattery, a joke she had heard many times before from the young mage. It was also a bid for a request that was still to come. A request she would grant. "I am old enough to be your great-grandmother da'len. Besides flattery mixed with ulterior motives is a nasty brew." Her face took a neutral expression, the lines of her Vallaslin tattoo evening out and her grayed hair bristling in the wind. "What is it that you want and why should I grant it considering your recent actions regarding Tamlen?"

"It does not involve blood I swear . . . or at least it shouldn't, I hope," Theron spoke quickly. The Keeper was still angry and an angry Keeper was a scary Keeper. "I just want permission to go collect ingredients before the clan wakes up . . . It's just easier that way," Theron reluctantly admitted.

A slight twinge of guilt picked at Marethari. Theron had always been unpopular among the clan, perhaps rightfully so. Blood magic was neither acceptable among the Dalish, it was after all the tool that helped enslave them, nor was it a favorite of Marethari, but it was necessary if the child was to ever fulfill his role. Marethari just wished he were not so enthusiastic about toying with such power. There was only so many times she could allow him to get away with practicing on clansmen before she would have to take real action. Theron really should have been banished after casting that blood domination spell on Tamlen, although the ensuing brawl had been amusing.

The child had lived a lonely, isolated life, among that which was supposed to be family. They were Dalish, walkers of the lonely path, but they were not meant to walk alone. They were supposed to have their clan. Theron did not and it was Marethari's fault. She had promised the boy's parents to help Theron complete the legacy they had left behind and that required power. And power required blood.

"How is the ritual coming along da'len?" Marethari expected the excitement that came in his response.

"I told you about the break through already. I have deciphered the process and the items needed, but I can't figure out what the ritual will _**do**_ exactly." Theron explained.

All rituals of the magical kind worked similar to a math equation. Process plus materials equals the effect. He had the process, but lacked the materials. The Heart of the mother from which the darkness spawns, it meant a broodmother's heart obviously. Blood of the grey ones and a chalice to hold it in, Grey Wardens, again it was obvious. And finally ashes of the wife singer and that one he had no clue about. He also had no idea what the ritual would do, but his parents handed it down to him and Marethari had allowed it, encouraged it even. They wouldn't allow him to partake in a ritual that would kill him . . . he hoped.

"There is some vague description of life and blood and nature, promises of a gift that will take, I suspect it is an exchange of sorts, but I am unsure." Theron continued, "There was also talk of a partner needed. Merrill will be less than helpful I suspect." At that Theron frowned. There was still so much to do, so much to gather, and none of that was possible within the clan.

"She might help if you stopped tormenting her."

"You use a blood sacrifice spell on a person to heal yourself once and they get all jumpy." Theron replied indignantly. "She was only unconscious for a few hours." Scaring Merrill into compliance was going to be necessary if he wanted to complete the ritual anyway. Marethari refused to take any direct action in the ritual. So Merrill was the only option, an option that was proving defiant and skittish and amusing.

"You could try befriending her and then simply ask for her help." Marethari deciphered his plans quickly. She could not allow her first to be enslaved by fear. Merrill would have to lead the clan one day. "Your attempts to intimidate her will not end well. Friendship is far more effective than fear, da'len. Have you even tried that?"

"I, heh, well . . . no, but I know how it works a relationship based upon mutual give and take to further your own goals." Theron replied, but failed to say how he didn't think it would work with Merrill, as he had nothing to give her.

"That is not friendship da'len." The Keeper's tone was cold and the wind shifted, seeming to match the icy chill of the keeper's will, but in her eyes was only pity. It was a look Theron had grown to hate. It spoke of knowledge he lacked, knowledge everyone else had that he did not. "Have you never had a friend da'len?"

"I have friends. There's you and Hahren Paivel and Ashalle."

"These are not friends. I am your Keeper and Paivel is your Hahren and Ashalle is closer to a mother to you than anything else. We are required to like you, da'len. And yet you test even this." The wind roared in opposition to Marethari's slow, even tone.

_Ouch, that was . . . demeaning._ Suddenly Theron felt cold. The heat of the world, its very life seemed to be withering in the face of the Keeper's rage. The ground was wet sinking slowly with his weight as if it wanted to devour him, the wind cut into him, the twilight before the break of day cast the shadow of the trees upon them. The aravel shrank away in the presence of the most powerful magical being in the forest. And the Keeper held a smile that was anything, but kind. _Shit. Think. Fix this. Grovel. Do Something._

The Keeper saw his fear and continued to gaze with pity or maybe disgust. Is there really a difference? And the wind shifted once more telling Marethari of secrets, of paths that must be taken, of a new development. Things would flow as Marethari planned it was the way. Keeper's word was law and nature her jury.

"Theron, you have failed to learn a lesson. But it is a lesson I should have taught more strictly," The Keeper spoke quietly, her voice not audible at those low tones and yet she demanded to be heard. "Go now before the clan awakens, Tamlen seems to have gone into the forest unattended. He is technically not allowed to be there, but considering that his punishment is your doing..." She trailed off.

"Y-yes," Theron managed, the air was too thin, "b-but I need help with the ritual and . . ."

"Enough!" Marethari did not yell. "You care more for a ritual than a clansman." Marethari was no longer smiling. "But that is also partially my doing. So go and I_** promise**_ your ritual will find completion."

"How do you know?"

"How do I know? I listened, da'len, to the earth and the sky, the dirt and the trees, the leaves and the wind. There is knowledge in such things for those that know how to listen," Marethari's words made him recoil. "But that is another lesson you have failed to learn. So I tell you now **learn** it. I have told you to go twice now. _**Go**_ Theron."

Theron went because when the Keeper tells you to jump you do not ask how high, you simply jump and pray to Mythal that your attempt was sufficient. Theron ran.

Nature returned to its unaltered state as the Keeper released a long sigh. She looked old and she reflected in the knowledge that she was old. She took no pleasure in punishing her charge; her clan, her family and she felt even more sorrow that it had to be done in the presence of another.

"You can come out now, Ashalle."

The elder, blonde haired elf stepped out from the trees with a certainty found only with age. Ashalle bowed slightly to the Keeper. Pain in her expression for the child she helped raise. "What will happen to him Keeper?"

"What must happen, Ashalle," Marethari responded quietly, the somber tone matched Ashalle's own pain.

"Well, was it really necessary to scare him in such a way?" She asked smiling slightly hoping to liven the mood.

"Perhaps not, but it held a slight comedy to it. Did it not?"

"He ran away so quickly, I thought he might have left his Vallaslin behind."

* * *

><p><em>That was too close. <em>Theron ran through the forest, luckily he had found Tamlen's tracks quickly. He checked to make sure he had his knife with him and found it where it always was, strapped behind his back in its sheath. _I shouldn't have panicked like that. I left my staff behind. I shouldn't have panicked. _He frowned, but shook it off he did not need a staff anyway, he rarely used it. A knife provided an element of surprise. Mages did not attack with bladed weapons and surprise was the greatest of all magic. Also, it made activating blood magic efficient and blood was the second greatest magic.

The air in the forest was not as thin and allowed him room to calm himself. The sun peaked through the leaves of the Brecilian forest and warmed the ground. Theron was calm now. _Now to fix this. Must find Tamlen._

His frown returned, Theron had no patience for the rash hunter. Mostly the dislike stemmed from jealousy. Tamlen was well liked among the clan. He _**had**_ friends. He probably even understood friendship. He was also the clan's most promising young hunter and recently had become master Ilen's apprentice. He was also an idiot, but a talented idiot. And Theron loathed him for it. _Why am I fetching Tamlen again? Oh, yeah the Keeper's pissed. _The Keeper's words continued to echo in his mind.

_Friendship is far more effective than fear, da'len. Have you even tried that? _Honestly, he hadn't even thought of it.

_Those are not friends. _Then what is a friend? He thought he had discovered an understanding of friendship . . . and those lessons he had not learned? He hated not having the knowledge the Keeper held. He hated not being able to understand something.

_Have you never had a friend da'len?_ How was he supposed to know?

_So go and I__** promise**__ your ritual will find completion._ The ritual was all he had and Marethari promised its completion. It was also a ritual he did not truly understand. Theron for all his faults was not lacking in intelligence and yet he could not understand the one thing he had put most of his life into. It was humbling. Why did he have to fetch Tamlen for the completion of his ritual? What would the Keeper expect of him?

_She wants me to meet Tamlen and probably expects me to delay my return until I get those ingredients. _A plan was forming in his mind. Surprise was the greatest of all magic. He would surprise the Keeper. _An immediate return will catch the Keeper off guard and show a willingness to follow her rules. _He hoped that would please the Keeper because the Keeper needed to believe he cared for the clan. So he would show her that. He would show her what she did not expect. Surprise was the greatest of all magic after all.

Theron finally spotted Tamlen and was . . . surprised.

* * *

><p>His bowstring was drawn taught as he gazed into the frightened eyes of his quarry now caught. Tamlen stood still, his inaction daring his prey to move. Normally it was procedure among the Dalish to avoid confrontation with humans, especially when outnumbered three to one, but these fools had come too close to locating their camp in their loud, bumbling, dash through the forest. They also looked no more dangerous then a frightened rabbit.<p>

Still three to one odds went against procedure and procedure kept the Dalish alive, but there was also that person following him and only a Dalish could track another Dalish so quickly. Tamlen figured that it was probably Merrill wandering again. Yes, he could take them alone and if not he had backup. He smiled baring his teeth and the humans flinched at the sight.

"Let us go Dalish we ain't done nothing to you!" The middle of three humans, and apparently the bravest of them, spoke. The other two made signs of movement, but stayed still when Tamlen pointed his bow at them. "Look we were just hunting for fur see?" The brave one took a step forward his hands held high, showing off the fox pelt, in a placating manner.

"Hold, Shem." Tamlen ordered, his bow moving back to the talkative human. "You run quickly through the forest. You are not here for mere furs. Why are you really here?"

"W-we didn't know this was y-your land Dalish. I s-swear." The human spoke gaining confidence. "Besides the way I see it, there's three of us and one of you." He left the threat hanging in the air.

"Our land? How does one own land, shem?" Tamlen spat with disgust. "You travel too close to our camp. Besides who says I am alone?" Tamlen was amused to note how the other two cowardly humans looked around nervously as if they expected a whole clan of elves to descend down upon them.

Theron was content to watch from the cover of the trees or he would have been, had he not been called out. _That idiot. Presence known. Also element of surprise gone. Also location of camp compromised. Also Tamlen's an idiot. _Theron was also a little surprised that Tamlen had caught him, though it was understandable. Tamlen was a very promising hunter in the clan. Unfortunately, while Tamlen exceeded as a hunter, he was lacking as a tactician. He really should not have let go of the camps location so casually. If the humans returned to their settlement and revealed the camps location it would mean relocation for the clan. Marethari would not like that.

Theron had to think, but he also had to act, his presence was known and if he did not reveal himself the humans might try to call Tamlen's not bluff. _That would result in dead humans or possibly dead Tamlen. _The former would mean relocation of the clan anyway, humans did not look kindly on elves, especially elves that killed humans, self defense or not. The latter brought a smile to Theron's face, but dead Tamlen meant very angry Keeper and possibly expulsion from the clan . . . _but only if she finds out that I could have stopped it_.

A cold breeze pierced through Theron at that moment, a breeze that did not rustle the trees. It was a clear warning. _Nope. Keeper would know, she always knows. _There was also the possibility of traumatizing the humans to such a degree that they would be too scared to mention their location. _That would require a great deal of effort. Psychological games are more to the Keeper's strength than mine, but it is a possibility. There is blood magic too, but Tamlen might not allow it. Either way I need to act now._

The forced loudness of Theron's steps drew the attention of the three humans. The humans looked in surprise. The elf with the bow had not been lying, there were more elves about, but the humans showed little fear of the newcomer. This elf had no visible weapons and wore a simple green vest with multiple pouches over a plain dark colored shirt. Elves themselves were not intimidating. An elf pointing a bow at you was intimidating, but alone and without a weapon they failed to impress. They had a thin, limber body that spoke of flexibility and dexterity not of strength and an avian-like face that aimed to appeal rather than frighten.

The humans were not too frightened, until they saw his eyes. A cold, calculating blue was observing them as if they were merely an obstacle to overcome. To this elf they were not people, they were only a challenge and that lack of empathy forced the humans to doubt themselves.

Tamlen for his part only scowled when he saw that it was Theron who had come to his aid. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hiding in your tent cutting yourself or something, _lethallin,_" Tamlen's tone indicated that he considered him anything, but his lethallin, "Or has the Keeper finally decided to let you go? Finally take that magic of yours too far?"

"The elf's a mage, shit." The humans slight fear transformed into a full-blown terror. Even the brave one retreated a step.

"Actually, the Keeper sent me to clean up your mess," Theron spoke lazily, ignoring the human and turning his gaze towards his fellow elf, "You do realize that you let go our location. That means picking up camp and leaving."

Tamlen replied with no hesitation, "Then I'll just kill them." The humans flinched at the casual tone. Theron took notice, but made no indication of it.

_Psychological tactics gaining merit as an option. _"And then what? They go missing, eventually a search party comes looking for them, and they find us. We still have to move." Theron replied smoothly, smiling as the crack in Tamlen's confidence showed. It was small; a very slight widening of the eyes, but it was still there.

_Demoralize Tamlen? Check. Solve human problem now, but how?_

"I-I this is partly your fault anyway, if you hadn't manipulated my blood and lost control. I wouldn't be in trouble."

"You have no proof of that." Theron pointed out.

_Think. Killing not an option at this point_

"The elf's a blood mage too?" The humans were growing desperate.

_Desperation makes them too unstable to manipulate through mere scare tactics._

"And besides they were **running **towards the camp. They would have discovered it if I hadn't stopped them. There was no other choice." Tamlen defended himself.

_Blood magic that will work . . . maybe. Memory manipulation tricky and time consuming . . . could also lose control again and end up killing them anyway. Head exploding might be fun to watch though . . ._

"I couldn't just let them **run **straight into camp."

_Wait, running?_

"Hey! Are you even listening to me?" Tamlen demanded.

Theron pushed past Tamlen and stepped toward the humans. They were not running towards the camp. There was no way these foolish looking shemlen had discovered their camp. They were running from something._ Now to find out what._

"What was chasing you shem?" Theron spoke to the one who did not look like he was about to soil himself. The human shifted nervously and looked quickly at the other two. He was looking for a confirmation from the others to speak. "Answer shem or I will make you answer." The threat did not hang in the air long, as the human opened his mouth finally to speak, but before the man could his companion the tallest and most intimidating of the three seemed to find his courage.

"Don't tell them anything. They're just knife-ears, we can take them together. That mage there used blood on the other one, they probably don't work well together anyway."

"If that's true, then imagine what I would do to you." Theron spoke as if he were talking casually with a friend. The human seemed to lose the use of his tongue at the threat.

"Blood magic is tricky stuff of course, controlling the ebb and flow of another life requires precise **timing**."_ Best to take precaution now_. His hand moved towards his back, pulling his knife from its sheath just enough to expose the blade. He made small cut on his wrist, the blood swirled forming a miniscule halo in his palm. All this was done unbeknownst to the humans. Only Tamlen had a view of the power he had activated. "Isn't that right Tamlen?" Theron asked.

It was a moment before Tamlen spoke. "Yes." Tamlen said responding to the unasked question of whether he would allow Theron to use his power. It would not come to that however as the last and smallest of the humans spoke.

"We were being chased by a monster. We found this statue it looked valuable, but when we touched it, th-that thing came after us." The small one said. "We weren't heading for your camp on purpose I swear!" It seemed that the humans had finally given up as the tall one reached in his pack and handed the statue to Tamlen.

"So you are more akin to thieves than trespassers." Tamlen stated as he mused over the ornate carving. "I-is this elvish? Written elvish?" Tamlen's voice had taken on a note of surprise. "Where did you find this?"

"In a cave past the gorge. We just thought there might be valuables. Times are tough. We didn't know it belonged to you honest!" The large one said noticing the disbelieving look on Theron's face.

"I know this forest well. There is no such cave, you lie." Theron asserted, doubt evident in his voice.

"It's the truth, you have to believe it!" The humans were growing desperate again.

"Truth or not I'll at least check it out, but the bigger question is what do we do with you, shem?" Tamlen threatened.

_Tamlen is intent on searching for the cave, will not come back to camp willingly. There are no caves. I'm sure of it, but still the statue is genuine and I would be able to tell if they were lying. Demon could cause the cave to be hidden from me. It is possible. _Theron smiled as a planned formed. "You three will lead **us** to this cave." Theron commanded hinting to Tamlen that he would be coming along. Tamlen looked reluctant, but nodded anyway. The shemlen, however, looked anything, but cooperative.

"The hell we will! That monster will get us. I'm not about to play tour guide for some knife-ear." The large one took a step forward moving in what was to be the beginning of a strike at Theron, a strike that would land, had it not been for the arrow that pierced through his hand. Tamlen readied another arrow.

The human let out a scream as his blood flowed freely from his now shattered hand. The other two rushed to his aid, but it was far too late. Blood had been spilled in the presence of a prepared blood mage.

Theron activated the power swirling in his cut hand. The two would be rescuers froze in their own bodies unable to fight. He called upon the power flowing from the wounded human. His blood was Theron's domain, his body the puppet of a new master. Theron made thralls of them all.

The pulse of their blood pounded in Theron's head. This was power. Blood the source and life the medium. The pulse held and the three stood in unison. To have complete domain over another sentient being was intoxicating it was akin to godhood. Theron chuckled lightly. He felt the warmth of their pulse. He was connected. He was alive.

"Are you done with the theatrics yet? If I have to travel with you I'd like to get it over with quickly and is it really necessary to bring them along?"

His blood high was ruined. "Yes, Tamlen," Theron spat rolling his eyes. "We need to bring them along because they know the way and if there really is a monster they will serve well as shields." He smiled and bared his teeth.

"Hmm, fair enough. Still to think you would sacrifice innocents so casually. It is disturbing." Tamlen glared, but did not object otherwise.

"They are technically thieves, and if we're lucky they will die defending us, solving our little camp problem. I see it as a chance at redemption."

"That's sick."

"Well I don't see you stopping me. Is it perhaps because you realize you will be in even more trouble if we are forced to move camp?"

"..."

"I thought so. Now, onward meat-puppets!"

* * *

><p>The walk to the shemlen's cave had been quiet apart from the occasional complaint from Tamlen whenever Theron 'accidentally' had one of his thralls bump into Tamlen. Theron enjoyed the uneasiness in Tamlen's posture. The thralls were definitely making him uncomfortable. It came as a surprise to both of the elves when they actually spotted the opening of the cave.<p>

The very notion that a cave of this size had gone undetected so close to the clan's main camp was unthinkable. Either the scouts had made a serious mistake in identifying and securing the location surrounding the camp or some serious magic was at work. Dalish scouts did not make mistakes without getting a serious reprisal from the Keeper and then of course there was the Keeper. She just seemed to know about things like this. Theron was also unsettled. The air just felt wrong. _There is definitely powerful magic at work here, but it's different then anything I've felt before. We'll just have to follow the magic to the source._

"The shemlen were telling the truth," Tamlen said looking closely trying to see into the cave, "It feels wrong here as . . . as if the air itself doesn't want to be here."

"You smell that puppet?" Theron casually addressed his closest thrall. Theron forced the bound human's mouth to open and close in an unnatural way whilst providing a false cheery tone.

"Yes, it appears Tamlen has soiled himself, master Theron. What do you think he ate?"

"Do elves have lesser bowel control, lord Theron?"

"Why now those are very good questions puppets." Theron began, ignoring Tamlen's glare. "Human and elf anatomy are in fact very similar. Tamlen is just a special kind of elf. Also dear meat and blue berries."

"Is this what you do for companionship, lethallin? You play with dolls rather than friends?" Tamlen retorted as he made his way into the cave.

"I have fr..."

"Keeper, Hahren, and Ashalle don't count." Tamlen disappeared into the cave.

"Ouch he got you good there, boss."

"Any way that Tamlen guy can be our new lord?"

"Don't worry I'll be your friend, master."

"Shut up." Theron moved himself and his thralls into the cave.

The inside of the cave proved to be impressive. It was more akin to an underground complex similar to those of the dwarves, but with elven patterns and carvings. It clearly had been untouched for quite some time, apart from the obvious tracks the humans had left. Walls once lined with grey stone were now crumbling apart revealing the brown earth that lay beneath. The roots of the older trees in the forest had broken through the ceiling of the cave continuing on through the floor. The inventiveness of the elves was a waste in comparison to the tenacity of nature.

The history of the cave drew the interest of Theron and Tamlen. The humans continued to stare blankly ahead awaiting further command. As they continued onward they reflected on how much was here. There was language, real written elvish adorning the walls. There was size, multiple rooms and hallways seemingly leading to one large master room of importance. There was magic, of that Theron was sure he could feel it in the air, and there was . . . giant spiders? Those same giant spiders were currently tearing into the flesh of the smallest of Theron's blood thralls.

"Ouch that doesn't look like fun does it?" Theron asked no one in particular, while drawing his knife and commanding his other two thralls to attack the spider nearing his location.

Tamlen for his part shot a single arrow taking out an advancing spider and then quickly drew his blade and charged the spiders that had finished off the small human. He struck with the training of a hunter beyond his years. Avoiding the acid that flew from his first opponent, he swung his blade taking several of the spider's limbs and finished by swiftly driving his blade into the second spider. It took less than twenty seconds for Tamlen to finish the third and last spider.

_Show off. _Theron's thralls held down the spider, the combined weight of two humans too much for it. The spider clawed and bit and spit, hissing as it did so, and the humans took every hit unaffected by pain because of the spell they were under. Theron felt no need to waste energy casting a spell and simply drove his knife into the eye of the subdued beast. He tried to restore his connection to the small human, but found that his thrall was dead. _That's one-third of our problems solved._ The other two were covered in scratches that bled lightly, but otherwise unharmed. And then he heard it the scratching that filled the room, spiders and lots of them coming forward. _Fifteen maybe twenty, we need to find more room._

Theron tried the door nearest him and found it locked forcing him to run towards the other one at the corner of the room where Tamlen was looking curiously at the ground. The first spider came in through the passageway aiming its head at Tamlen.

"Tamlen down!" Theron dove tackling Tamlen both of them hitting the ground before the acid could meet its target. Theron had sent the big human to occupy the spider forcing the bulk of the hoard to remain outside the room. The human would not last long.

"You saved me?" Tamlen stared with no small amount of amazement.

"Keep it in your pants. The Keeper would kill me if I didn't bring you back alive." Theron stood up quickly and headed straight for the door.

"Wait, the door is covered by a trap." Tamlen warned. "I can't figure out how to disarm it."

Theron quickly examined what to do. He himself was not capable of disarming traps; he had no training in the matter. He looked over to his thrall covering the door; he had killed the first spider, but had a large gash in return. _Large human will not last long. _Casting a healing spell that closed the wound quickly bought him some more time, but if the scratching and hissing coming from outside the room were any indication of success, the human still wouldn't last long. Theron decided what to do and it was going to be messy.

"Back up and get your bow ready I've got a plan." Theron demanded and Tamlen complied. Theron sent his unoccupied thrall running through the door. It led to a short hallway that led to another slightly smaller room. The thrall hit instantly by a plume of fire when it passed through the first door. Ignoring the pain in the way only a mindless husk could, it continued its run resembling a human torch lighting the way to the other room. When it finally passed the second door it triggered another trap and was hit by a storm of arrows ending its life.

"I'm glad that wasn't me." Tamlen said as he followed Theron through the hall and the large human took the rear bearing a new set of scratches and a few burn marks.

The spiders came after them quickly funneling into the hall they had exited previously. Theron gathered the magical force around him, the unique will that only a mage possessed, and made his desire a reality. His arms and hands moving in the proper method his voice speaking the proper word. The result was one of his favorite spells and the blue light hit the center most spider of the hoard. "Tamlen shoot the spider I just cast the spell on now!"

Tamlen struck with the accuracy of the Dalish and the arrow killing its mark. Theron smirked. _Heh boom. _The middle spider exploded blowing apart the hoard. The creatures dark blood smeared the walls, arachnid legs and body parts were scattered haphazardly across the ground, and the few spiders that survived the initial explosion were left convulsing as the corrosive blood of the spell-struck spider burned away what life they had left.

Theron felt the drain on his mana. Controlling three thralls for such an extended period of time left his energy reserves low and the corrosive walking bomb spell he had just cast depleted him of what was left. He would be operating on pure blood magic now. _I should be fine if we finish here quickly. I only have one thrall left anyway. _Wishing to finish their little adventure he continued following the hall that lead to the large concentration of mana he originally felt upon entering the cave. The veil was thin in this hall.

"I have to admit that was mildly impressive, lethallin." Tamlen commented seeing the tiredness in his clans-mate. Continuing on towards what appeared to be the room of greatest importance, Tamlen took the lead in case there were more hidden traps. He was following Theron's directions, stopping only when a he heard the unmistakable scraping of steel against stone coming from behind them.

He quickly drew his own blade and blocked the great-sword that would have cut through Theron with ease. Tamlen took in his new foe. It was a walking skeleton. A mockery of life brought back by a tear in the veil between this world and the next. And it wasn't alone.

Theron got out of the way. "Thanks."

"Keep it in your pants we need a plan."

Theron smiled taking in the information of the battle. _Four skeletons and three of us. Only Tamlen has sufficient weaponry to take them out. Well let's even up the numbers first._ Theron took out his knife and cut himself allowing his blood to be used in place of mana. Noticing an inanimate skeleton on the floor he called it into his service using the proper spell. It rose and took over the fight Tamlen was in. It took Tamlen's foe by surprise and ripped its skull from its body.

Tamlen made no hesitation in sending his blade against two skeletons that had approached him from behind. His moves were swift and punishing, but outnumbered and against foes that were incapable of tiring he was forced back along with Theron towards a final door. Their combined weight forced a pressure plate down releasing a gas.

_Trap damn it. _Theron felt himself growing tired as the trap took effect and watched as his skeleton was torn apart by three advancing undead. There was only one path left. Theron and Tamlen acted together opening the large door and taking in the fresh air it allowed them access to. Theron turned to find himself face to face with a mirror and a monster.

_This is what the humans must have been running from._ Theron did not have time to think as the giant twisted abomination of a bear swiped at him, tearing into his flesh. Tamlen struck sinking his blade into the monster's arm, but found not the strength to reclaim his blade. The creature staggered back in an unnatural sway, its howls of pain resembling that of a bear in only the faintest way.

Theron and Tamlen retreated further back towards the mirror while the skeletons finally entered the room. As with all creatures of great power and lesser intelligence the corrupted bear engaged the skeletons cracking their bones and crushing their skulls. The skeletons did not last long. Theron tripped upon stairs that led up to the strange mirror feeling disoriented from loss of blood. _Have to finish this now while that thing is distracted. _He summoned up all the power of his spilled blood and commanded his thrall to attack. Tamlen readied his bow aiming his last arrow hoping for a shot that would end the beast.

The thrall dove picking up the discarded sword of the skeleton and was batted away. The monster lumbered towards Tamlen.

"Theron a little help!" Tamlen held firm aiming his bow hoping for a shot that would not come.

Theron obliged as best he could using more blood trying to subvert the beast under his control. The result was a slight stumble in its movements that allowed Tamlen the time to move, but Theron could not maintain control and the beast changed course toward him, raging at the pitiful attempt to be controlled.

_Thirty feet from death. I can't move in time._

Tamlen readied his bow once more.

_Twenty feet. No energy for spells left._

His current shot would not be a killing one.

_Ten feet. Think. I can't die yet. Do something._

The corrupted force of nature opened its gaping maw and bit down tearing into flesh, flesh that belonged to a human. The last thrall had fallen protecting its owner. Tamlen's arrow struck piercing eye and tearing its way through the brain of its target. The beast was dead.

"Took you long enough," Theron commented with a small smile.

"You looked like you were about to piss yourself. I wanted to see if it would actually happen," Tamlen responded lifting Theron up. "What was that thing?"

"I don't know, but the Keeper needs to be informed immediately. We should," Theron started before he was interrupted by the faint glow the mirror now cast. They moved up the stairs towards the glowing mirror. The sheer amount of power coursing through it chilled their blood and stopped the steady beat of their hearts. Theron swore it was literally buzzing with power. It was deafening.

"This mirror . . . it has elvish inscriptions. What do you think it says?" Tamlen inquired unaware of Theron's discomfort.

"Do not touch glass." Theron responded wondering how the buzzing was not bothering Tamlen.

Tamlen laughed genuinely. "Very clever, lethallin. In any case the Keeper will want to see this." Tamlen's words faded into static. "Di. y.u s.. th.t? I thin. .. …." Tamlen reached out to touch the glass before Theron could stop him. The aftershock shook the very cave and sent the elves back towards the end of the room.

Theron's headed erupted in pain and noise. Magic and taint filled his body.

**Leasere em mrtoal.**

He crawled back to the entrance of the cave until he could move no longer. How long he lay there he could not tell.

**Njoi em in lerbmsu, earh ym ongs.**

Static filled his mind halting his thoughts. There was music.

**Het rkad neso machr. I hsall esir.**

Somewhere in his mind he noticed the dark skinned human carrying him from the cave. The human spoke, but only glimpses were heard.

**Oury nadls lilw flla. Oinj or priash.**

"Are you alright?" The human said.

"Where's Tamlen?"

Hesitation was in the human's voice. "Your friend, he did not make it."

**Rou oardhes lliw cvoer het rolwd.**

_Friend? Damn the Keeper's going to be pissed._

_**My blight is coming.**_

* * *

><p>Wisps of sunlight peaked through the curtain of the aravel waking him from his slumber. The familiar feeling of numbness that comes from injury induced sleep brought back glimpses of what had happened. The buzzing had ceased. The music silenced. Relief is what he felt now. Relief and longing, but longing for what he was unable to deduce. Surely it was not for the music? <em>I need to figure out what happened now. <em>He rose quickly. It was a mistake. _Shit my head. _Slowly he exited the confines of the aravel.

"Theron, you're awake."

Theron's eyes adjusted slowly to the light as he took notice of the man greeting him. It was Fenarel. Theron knew little of his fellow clans-mate despite them being peers. What he did know was that Fenarel was one of the few within the clan to not show an open hostility towards him. He was one of the few that did not openly glare when Theron walked past or curse him behind his back and for that he had Theron's respect if little else.

"Fenarel what happened? Where is Tamlen? How long have I been out?" Theron asked directly. He needed answers now.

"You do not remember? You truly have the god's own luck lethallin." Fenarel answered seeing the urgency in his fellow elf, "You were brought here by a shemlen that claimed to be a Grey Warden and you have been out for two days. As for Tamlen, he is missing . . . we were hoping you would have answers."

_A Grey Warden? Now that is interesting. Grey Wardens primarily concern themselves with darkspawn matters._ The magic within the cave had been different from anything he had previously experienced. Darkspawn magic and the taint they leave would explain a great deal and nothing at the same time. Theron knew very little about the tainted beings. _I need to see the Keeper._

Fenarel seemed to pick up on his thoughts quickly. "I will get the Keeper. She wished to be informed of you waking up."

Theron watched him go and was left only with his fragmented thoughts. He tried to piece together what had happened as best he could because the Keeper would need information. _Found humans. Subjugated humans with blood magic. Will leave that part out. Found cave. Found mirror. The mirror! _That had been the source of the buzzing and the music and his quick separation from consciousness. It had obviously been of elven make, but perhaps the darkspawn had corrupted it in some way.

"You look pale da'len. Do not think so hard. You may pass out again." The Keeper arrived breaking Theron from his concentration.

"Keeper," Theron acknowledged quickly, "What happened? Fenarel said I was carried back to camp by a grey warden and that Tamlen is missing."

"Yes, Duncan carried you back to camp. A dark magic held you da'len. It nearly bled the life from you and would have had you not been returned to my care." The Keeper's eyes did not hold their usual smile, "You owe him your life. As for Tamlen, we have the hunters looking for him, but the skies do not look favorably."

The Keeper stared up and Theron wondered what it was that she saw that he could not. So much had happened in so little time. _Duncan, the Grey Warden. Tamlen missing. The monster and the mirror._

"What happened Theron?"

Theron told all he could recall about the humans, the cave, the mirror, and the buzzing he had heard. All the while the Keeper's face showed nothing in response. No anger, no confusion, not a single indication that she might know something beyond what was being said. She closed her eyes and tilted her head into the breeze.

"You remember the location of the cave?" The Keeper waited until Theron gave a nod, "Good, you will get Merrill and take her to the cave in search of Tamlen. Merrill knows enough of my magic to protect her from the corruption that harmed you. She will also know enough to perhaps decipher the nature of your mirror. A word of caution, if what Duncan says is true, you may encounter darkspawn. If that happens use blood magic to its full extent these are not creatures worthy of mercy."

Theron's eyes widened a fraction as he tried to control his surprise at the severity of the Keeper's words. The Keeper encouraging the use of blood magic meant a great deal. _I still need information._

"What about the Grey Warden? And . . ."

The Keeper cut him off quickly. "All will be answered when you return. For now discovering Tamlen's fate is of the utmost importance. Or do you disagree?"

"No, I will be off immediately Keeper."

Theron set off at quick pace. Returning to the caves would be dangerous the Keeper made that much clear, but at least he would have company. Merrill, he reflected was a very capable mage on her own and she had the training and the knowledge of a keeper. Perhaps she could answer his questions about the darkspawn. There was also the fact that Merrill was terrified of him and thus easily manipulated. _It will be like having a blood thrall without having to waste blood. _The sound of quick footsteps stalled his thoughts.

"Theron wait!" Fenarel's call stopped him.

"Fenarel what is it?"

"You are going to search for Tamlen. I want to come along."

Fenarel's offer surprised him greatly. No one just wanders into danger willingly.

"Why? You realize there might be darkspawn and you have no protection against their taint. You will most likely die." Theron was overly blunt and he knew it. Normally he would have tried to uncover his motives through manipulation, but he did not have the luxury of time at the moment.

"I want to help. You and Merrill are not trained warriors, I am. And Tamlen is part of my clan I wish to see him back safely. I wish to see all of you back safely."

The sincerity of Fenarel's reply confused Theron. Such concern was jarring, irrational even. It was something beyond his comprehension, but Theron had a clue as to what it might be. _Concern that puts ones own safety at risk. Such irrationality, he is in love._

"So you are trying to court Merrill." Theron asked.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"So it's Tamlen you are trying to court then?" Theron continued.

"What? No!"

"Oh gods, it's me isn't it?" The disgust was evident on Theron's face.

"No! I just want to help find Tamlen."

Fenarel was not lying that much Theron could tell for certain. Still that answered little, but Fenarel was a capable warrior and they could use all of the help they could get. Theron decided he would decipher Fenarel's motives later.

"Fine come along then, we need to get Merrill."

* * *

><p>Merrill was not happy as she sucked the blood from her injured thumb. Roses were a cruel flower. Beauty and a pleasant aroma is what it offered, but blood it always stole in exchange. Blood. That was the real reason the quiet, but bright elven apprentice was upset. She would have to venture into the forest with him. She feared him and she hated herself for it.<p>

A keeper was not to show fear, but she was afraid. And she did not want to fear him. She did not hate him the way the others did. In fact she pitied him. He was always so alone, so isolated. She wanted to be his friend, but she could not because she was scared. A keeper was supposed to take care of the clan and yet she could not even help the one elf in the tribe she was most alike. She was a bad First for the clan.

But maybe things could be different. Here was a chance to form a friendship with the clans-mate she had grown up with. They would be alone in the forest with plenty of time to form a partnership. The thought terrified her. She would suppress it, however. She would succeed. She would be brave.

"Hello Merrill."

She screamed in surprise tripping over a branch, landing on a poorly placed rock. Her greeter stared down at her small frame and short black hair. She was unconscious.

"That was cruel Theron."

"That was hilarious Fenarel."

* * *

><p>It had taken several harder than necessary slaps and the last of Theron's smelling salts to wake Merrill. At first Merrill objected to Fenarel's added presence without the Keeper's permission, but it took only four words from Theron to silence her objection. Merrill you are bleeding. She immediately grew pale and quickly set off in the direction of the forest. That was where she found herself currently. Following Theron's lead with Fenarel trailing behind.<p>

Already her plans for bravery had failed with a simple hello. Not a single word had been uttered from any of them since entering into the forest. Soon they would be at the cave and still she had not made a single attempt at getting to know either of her fellow clansmen. She needed to act fast if she wanted to engage them in conversation, but what could she say? She knew very little about either of their interests. However, she did know that Theron took his training in the magical arts very seriously and from what she recalled he had a lack of aptitude in the primal school of magic. Perhaps she could offer advice to help him. Surely he would appreciate the offer.

"Th-theron," she finally worked up the courage to speak, "Have you been able to master that flame spell yet?"

Theron glanced over his shoulder, surprised at being addressed and pondering the randomness of the question. "Why no Merrill I haven't, but thank you I do enjoy being reminded of my inadequacies," Theron wore a light smile and a cheer in his voice that was inconsistent with the words he uttered.

"I-I wh-what I meant was..."

"Relax it was only a joke," Theron brushed it off lightly. Now was not the time to torment Merrill. Jumpy mages were bad mages. She had to be ready if they were attacked. "The Keeper says I simply lack the aptitude for the primal school. She said it was something of a disability, though it seems she either does not know or is unwilling to tell me why I am disabled."

"Oh," was all Merrill could come up with, but still it was something she did not know about her fellow mage.

"So you can't shoot fire?" Fenarel decided to jump in, "That's kind of disappointing. That's the first thing I'd want to do if I was a mage."

Theron laughed shortly in response, "I was pretty disappointed when I found out, but..."

The arrow that flew only inches past his head quickly silenced Theron. Leaping out of the way he quickly turned to look at his would be executioner. What he saw were two twisted creatures. Sharp yellow teeth and decaying green skin; short and muscular in stature with sickening yellow eyes are what he gazed. The aura of taint coming off of them was unsettling. _These must be darkspawn._

The creatures took aim again with their cruelly shaped bows, but were interrupted by a fire spell Merrill sent their way. Fenarel charged with his sword drawn engaging the beasts. Fenarel was able to finish one, but received a shallow cut on his arm in return. Theron did not wish for the battle to continue any longer. He activated the power of blood, forcing the remaining beast into his service, halting its movements.

The result was uncomfortable. The pulse of the creature's life was unnatural. It lacked the steady, warm, rhythm that all creatures had and in its place was a sporadic flow that set his skin crawling. Most frighteningly the buzzing from the cave was back filling his head.

If he had more time he would have liked to study the creature, dissect it even and perhaps learn its secrets, but right now that was not an option. They had a mission to accomplish.

"Merrill kill it will you. I'm having trouble controlling it. I can't gather the concentration to cast another spell," Theron strained. Even speech was proving difficult.

Merrill complied quickly with a lightning spell aimed at the creature's head. Death severed Theron's connection to the creature. Thankfully, it ended the buzzing allowing Theron to think clearly once again.

"What are these things?" Fenarel wondered aloud as he went to touch one of the creatures.

"Stop!" Merrill's shout froze Fenarel in his spot. "These are darkspawn. Their very existence is a corruption and if it comes in contact with that wound of yours even the Keeper will not be able to heal you."

Fenarel jumped back in an almost comical way. "Thanks for the warning."

Theron looked at the creature once more. _So it is a darkspawn. That is interesting, but if its corruption is incurable . . . why am I alive? That mirror had the same taint I am sure of it._ Theron knew that Merrill's warning had not been a lie. He could always tell when someone was lying. That left only one option. The Keeper had not told Merrill everything. Theron looked once more at his companions specifically noticing the wound on Fenarel's arm.

"Come here I can heal that." Theron cast his spell on Fenarel's wound. The severed flesh knit back together not leaving a scar. Merrill took notice of Theron's actions.

"When did you learn to heal?" Merrill asked with a great deal of surprise. Of all the magic available to learn she had not expected Theron to take an interest in healing spells. Reanimating dead bodies, summoning demons, controlling a person's mind, even those walking bomb spells he seemed to favor, but never had she thought he would take the path of a healer.

"The spells are easy to pick up once you acquire the needed level of concentration. Also, since some of us can't just throw around fire and lightning like you, I thought it would be useful to work on my defensive abilities," Theron answered as he finished up his work, "And it's good to have a second healer in camp I suppose."

"Aww see he does care about us Merrill," Fenarel joked as he stretched his newly healed arm. Merrill smiled in response thinking that it was a good thing to know that Theron did take note of the clan's well being.

"Heh, right..." Theron scratched the back of his head. The truth was he learned only because he excelled at it and it helped secure his place in the clan. The Dalish did not waste resources and healers were valuable. He had never truly considered the clans needs. _I really just wanted to be able to heal myself after cutting my wrists for blood magic. _Wasting a healing salve and bandages after every practice session was time consuming. "Let's carry on the cave is close by."

As they entered the cave Merrill and Fenarel were amazed at the elven presence. Such history was valuable to any Dalish, but well-preserved history like that of the cave truly had no price. There was so much to learn in this place. Merrill desired nothing more than to sit and take in every inscription on the wall, every statue adorning the hall. It was a First's dreamland. The Keeper would have to come and see this for herself. Unfortunately, Theron did not allow them the time to observe as they followed his continued pace. This was fine by Merrill. As disappointed as she was, they had to find Tamlen and that mirror the Keeper told her about.

"The Keeper said you could tell me about this mirror you discovered with Tamlen," Merrill spoke to Theron. She had an idea of what it may be and if she was correct it would mean a great deal to the clan.

"She told you about that did she? Well it's big and dangerous and surprisingly bad as a mirror. Damn thing doesn't even reflect. It also has serious magic contained within, the moment Tamlen touched it we were both rendered unconscious," Theron warned, "These darkspawn have most likely tainted it." Merrill took note of his warning, but remained silent.

Theron felt, more than heard, that damned buzzing as the group finally reached the door to the mirror room. It was filling his head once more, but he ignored it. With a bit of effort they pushed open the great door and within they saw the strange scene of a darkspawn ritual.

Five corrupted beasts gathered around the mirror. Three were of the kind they had encountered in the forest, short and muscular. A fourth was taller adorned in a crude, dirty, golden armor; freshly spilled blood dripping from its mighty axe. The fifth, the most frightening of the group, wore black robes and held a staff. The magic radiating from it was every bit as twisted as the creature itself. It was a mage and a powerful one at that.

They moved about in an unusual pattern around the mirror. The mage and one of the short darkspawn directed them in their odd dance. They sung in a gurgling tongue emanating sounds that no living creature should be capable of producing. It was entrancing and revolting. The elves wished to look away, but their bodies did not respond. Their disgust of the scene fueled their curiosity. It was akin to looking at a festering wound; once seen you had to examine it fully.

The darkspawn's gurgles and warbles and all of the other unholy sounds joined together in a corrupt rhythm. There was music and Theron felt a pull. He could not resist. He felt he must join them to become one with their song. The cacophony gained strength leading to its climax. The mage grabbed the short one next to it and slit its throat. Blood pooled around its black robes. The three remaining cheered and the music overcame Theron's will. He stepped towards the darkspawn.

"Theron no!" Merrill screamed sending a fireball at the darkspawn, while Fenarel did his best to hold Theron back. The spell exploded killing one of the short darkspawn, but the mage had conjured a shield to protect the remaining two as well as itself. It screamed at its fellow darkspawn and they charged the elves.

"Here hold Theron," Fenarel told Merrill as he went to intercept the attackers.

"Theron are you..."

"I'm fine now. Let's take care of that mage before he does real harm," Theron replied once the music had stopped and he had control of his body. He activated his blood talents once more. _Walking bomb spell is too risky in confined quarters. Will have to play a support role and rely solely on Blood spells for offense. _He cast a spell to boost Fenarel's physical capabilities and ordered Merrill to keep the staff wielding darkspawn busy. Merrill complied sending a flurry of arcane bolts from her staff.

Fenarel with aid from Theron's spell was able to avoid and parry both of the darkspawn he was fighting. His reflexes were quickened to peak physical levels. He flowed away from the great axe of the monstrous gold-plated darkspawn and parried every blow from the short one. Finally he found an opening and severed the short one's head from its body. He turned to block the large one's axe and stumbled back from the impact.

Theron rushed to help Merrill deflecting a stream of ice that had been sent her way, but even together they were forced back. Fenarel was too busy with the large darkspawn to aid them. _We won't last long if we don't end this soon._

"Merrill if you can break its shield, I may be able to control it long enough for you to kill it," Theron yelled.

"Keep it distracted I know a spell that can break it, but I need time," Merrill commanded already beginning to gather the necessary power for her spell. Parts of the ground dirt, wood, and stone formed into a fist growing larger as she chanted the verse.

Theron knew what she was planning he had seen the keeper cast this spell before. Theron used his own staff forcing its power out as fast as he was able. The result was a continuous stream of energy blasting away at the darkspawn's shield. He had its sole attention now, but that came at a price. The darkspawn mage sent spell after spell his way. Theron was barely able to avoid its onslaught when a fireball caused him to throw his body out of the way. He landed harshly on the ground watching as the darkspawn took its final aim.

"I've got it," Merril yelled sending the fist of stone at her foe.

The resulting impact was deafening, resulting in Fenarel's distraction. He was batted away by the axe-wielding darkspawn. His head collided with stone rendering him unconscious unbeknownst to both of his clansmen.

Theron spared no time casting his blood domination spell. The resulting strain on his mind was almost unbearable. "Merrill finish him now!" He screamed unable to bear it much longer.

Merrill sent one final bolt of magic ending the beast. They smiled at each other successful in their teamwork. Merrill knew the Keeper would have been proud. "Good jo... Theron watch out!" Merrill screamed as she rushed to his aid, but was batted away easily. The blow caused her lip to bleed heavily. She tried to get up, but was dazed blood and spit falling from her lips to kiss the stone floor.

Theron tried to block the ensuing blows with his knife, but it was no match against the darkspawn's heavier axe and he was no warrior. Theron felt the blow of the axe digging into his side then being harshly ripped out. The resulting gash was life threatening. A sea of red gathered around them both. He laughed lightly.

"Theron!" Merrill screamed.

His laughs wheezed out louder as the darkspawn readied a final blow. Theron's laughs were hysterical now. "Look at all this blood!"

He gathered the power for a final spell. That red sea provided the power. The large darkspawn levitated into the air convulsing, its own blood ripping from its body. The power of the blood sacrifice spell slowly healed Theron. He rose to his feet. The power of blood overwhelming the power of taint; his laughs echoed loudly through the room.

Merrill knew this power she had been on the receiving end once before. The blood sacrifice spell was terrifying, but she immediately recognized the difference between the one Theron had cast on her before and the one he cast now. This one was meant to kill.

Theron's eyes were red, blood falling like rain upon him from the darkspawn. His hysteria filled the room. Echoes of madness filling Merrill's thoughts bringing with it memories of a young girl, herself having the life ripped from her body. She could have been the darkspawn. No, she was the darkspawn. Herself now replaced the darkspawn in her eyes; her scream was unable to penetrate the maniacal laughter of Theron. The great elven mirror glowed faintly in the background. She was scared.

Theron finished his spell. The darkspawn fell unceremoniously to the floor. He noticed Merrill now silent, pale, and injured. He walked towards her, while his flesh turned in an unnatural way healing itself closing the wound that should have killed him. His hand reached out to her wounded, bloodstained lips. She recoiled immediately.

"Do not touch me! You can't have my blood!" She yelled tears gathering in her eyes, but refusing to fall, clouding her vision. She was scared.

Theron froze, eyes widening a fraction at her response. "I just wanted to heal your cut," He said allowing only the smallest bit of surprise in his voice. Merrill gazed up into his eyes. They were no longer a violent red. A calculating blue returned once more and she saw for the briefest of moment's what she thought was sadness before it faded quickly into nothing.

He had just wanted to help her. Her terror was replaced with shame. Why was she always so plagued by fear? He had tried to heal her and she hurt him in return. She turned her back on a clans-mate. She abandoned him like everyone else in the clan. She failed to call out to him as he went to heal Fenarel. She failed again to speak as he propped Fenarel against the wall declaring that he would live. She failed to apologize as he helped her to her feet. She was scared. She was ashamed.

"That mirror is glowing again that can't be good. Things that glow are never good." Theron declared mostly to himself.

"That's sound advise for anything surely." Theron and Merrill turned to meet the new voice. A tall dark skinned human nodded at them.

"You must be the human that carried me back to camp," Theron spoke in reply, "You have my thanks."

"I am Duncan of the grey wardens. It is a pleasure to meet both of you," He bowed lightly in their direction, "It appears I arrived a little late, however. If all this blood is any indication it must have been quite the battle. Taking on such a regiment of darkspawn and surviving is an impressive feat."

"Arrived a little late? That's an understatement if I've ever heard one," Theron mused aloud, "You would think the grey wardens would have a flair for the dramatic."

"I am sorry to disappoint then," Duncan laughed, "I wasn't aware of your presence until I heard the . . . laughing?"

"Darkspawn are surprisingly good jesters," Theron replied brushing off the question.

"Well, be that as it may we should return to your camp. Your friend will need medical attention," Duncan said nodding towards the moving Fenarel, "But first I need to destroy that mirror."

"You sure about that? Our Keeper might want to see it." Theron responded in all honesty not caring. If the mirror was tainted, as he suspected, it was useless to him and the clan.

"That mirror is tainted. It will be of no use now." Duncan assured him. Theron went to help Fenarel and stood him next to Merrill as they watched Duncan approach the glowing mirror. He drew the larger of the two blades strapped to his back preparing a blow that would shatter.

Merrill wanted to yell for him to stop, but was still held back by shame and fear. She couldn't even protest for the thing she came here for. The mirror was an eluvian an ancient piece of elven history. It was a piece of her history, a piece of the clan, and a piece of her. She realized then that she hated her fear more than anything.

The glow of the mirror caught her eye. It was calling out to her. Invading her thoughts. It screamed for her touch. She watched as Duncan shattered it in a single blow destroying its taint and cleansing it. She watched as a purified shard imbedded itself in her hand. She watched as the blood fell from the wound it caused. She heard its voice. A sweet tongue filled her mind.

**What is it you desire for most little elf?**

_I don't want to be afraid ever again! _She knew not the pact she had made.

**So it will be little elf. Those that feel no fear also know no sanity.**

"Ouch that really smarts!" Merrill's cry drew the attention of the group.

"Are you alright Merrill," Fenarel asked unsurely.

"Oh, everything's rainbows and roses Fenarel," Merrill said happily as she dug out the shard from her palm and placed it in her satchel, "Theron would you heal this for me. Just don't drink the blood or use it to draw tattoos on yourself or whatever it is you do."

"Ok," Theron said looking curiously at Merrill, but otherwise complying with her wish. He decided she was in shock and turned to Duncan. "There is still the matter of our clans-mate Tamlen."

"I... know this may be hard to hear, but if your friend has not turned up by now it is unlikely that he will be found," Duncan replied with some sadness, "The darkspawn do not leave bodies when they can help it."

"They... they didn't eat him. Did they?" Fenarel asked looking frightened by the idea.

"Ooh! He probably tastes like chicken," Merrill earned the confused gaze of everyone present, "You know elves are said to be descended from birds. It would make sense, although, Tamlen always reminded me more of a duck than a chicken."

"..."

"What? Oh I've said something wrong haven't I."

"Let's just head back to camp," Theron suggested a little wary, "Some of us definitely need medical attention."

They walked out of the cave. Except for Merrill. Merrill skipped out of the cave.

* * *

><p>Theron found himself walking past the glares of his clan after he told Hahren Paivel that they would need to prepare a funeral service for Tamlen. Their hate was evident and open, but he did not mind. Years of such looks had made him indifferent. It made him cold. It made him strong. If they wanted to blame him for Tamlen's death then so be it. He could take it. All he had left to do now was to return to the Keeper. She had said they had much to discuss and that the grey warden had information for him.<p>

"Ah da'len you have completed your task I trust," the Keeper said, while Duncan stood at her side. Theron nodded not wasting time speaking.

"Good, there is much for you to hear now," The Keeper started slowly, "The taint you contracted from the mirror. It will kill you in time."

"Ok," Theron said not sure how to respond.

"Perhaps I should explain," Duncan joined in, looking to the Keeper for confirmation, "The taint that courses through you now has not been cured. That you live at all is a testament to your Keeper's magic and your own will. There is one cure, however."

"Well out with it then," Theron demanded.

"If you were to become a grey warden the joining process would make you immune to the taint," Duncan explained, "There is a blight coming, a massive wave of darkspawn preparing to attack all of Ferelden. We are in need of recruits and you have proven yourself more than capable."

The word blight drew Theron's attention recalling memories.

**My blight is coming.**

He chose to remain silent on what the music had told him for now. "So I either choose to become a grey warden or I die?" Theron looked to the Keeper for the answer.

"Duncan speaks the truth da'len, but you do not have a choice in the matter," the Keeper had his full attention now, "I am banishing you from the clan and Duncan is invoking the right of conscription. You have no choice in the matter."

"I..." Theron paused, but then smiled, "Love you too Keeper." In hindsight there really was no choice. Theron would have chosen survival no matter the cost. Banishment was just the Keeper's way of screwing with him.

The leaving was dreadfully quite. Almost no one had come to see him off and truthfully he did not care. He was truly indifferent to the clan's feelings, but some did come. The Keeper, Merrill, Ashalle, and even Fenarel came to see him off. Ashalle offered him her tears it was uncomfortable, but expected. She had helped raise him after all. Fenarel gave him a smile and wished him luck, that one was a little odd considering they barely knew one another, but Theron credited it to all the healing he gave him. Merrill grabbed him a tight embrace that was strange, but Merrill had been acting weird ever since the cave.

"Do stay safe and don't drink too much blood you could catch something that way." Merrill said with tears in her eyes. _Correction not weird, batshit crazy._

Released from Merrill's embrace he met the Keeper one last time. She hugged him as well, but not without purpose. He heard her voice whisper in his ear, but her lips did not move. It was the wind that carried her voice. _Listen closely Theron. There are more forces at work here than darkspawn and wardens. You play a dangerous game with an opponent even greater than I. You must use this opportunity to acquire the necessary materials for your ritual it will be instrumental in your victory. Trust the ritual with no one, not even this Duncan. _Theron pulled away confused only to see laughter in the Keeper's green eyes.

The wind continued to speak even as he left with Duncan. _The pieces are in position. You must defeat the blight, but it is not your true enemy. You play a game with a foe more dangerous than any darkspawn. You play a woman of many years._

Theron turned for one last look at the Keeper. There was no longer laughter in her eyes.

_You play against Asha'bellanar._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Well to anyone who clicked on this and read the story thank you. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and will give the second one a try. As you can probably tell by now this is an AU and yes Marethari is out of character, but she needs to be for purposes of the plot. Hopefully there isn't some giant Marethari fanclub out there that I have offended. This is also my first official fanfic so I hope you will be patient with me. I am bound to mess up.


	2. You Haven't Made Your Move

Chapter 2: You haven't made your move

The trip with Duncan had been informative. Duncan explained the nature of Theron's illness and told him that the joining ritual of the Grey Wardens was his only hope of a cure. Grey Wardens were apparently immune to darkspawn taint. Duncan explained the danger of the blight and how it involved the darkspawn uniting under a great Archdemon. Theron granted Duncan closer attention than usual at this part.

Apparently there was a large hoard of darkspawn amassing in the Kocari Wilds, which the humans were preparing to engage in battle near Ostagar. Theron had grown very quiet. Ostagar was their current destination.

Duncan had been surprised at the extent of knowledge Theron held regarding the geography and history of Ferelden. He found he had to explain little about the lands to the young elf. When he inquired as to how Theron was so familiar with human history he received a simple reply. It is good to know one's enemies. To which Duncan explained that the darkspawn were the true threat and that within the grey wardens all races were accepted and treated as equal. The young elf had responded with a cold blue stare devoid of emotion. The remainder of the trip had been silent.

It would be sometime later that Duncan would realize how much he had told Theron and how little information he had received in return. It would be sometime later that he realized how Theron had successfully interrogated him. Torture and interrogation was not currently a branch within the Ferelden sect of the grey wardens, but they did not waste any particular talent. Duncan was already envisioning the role Theron would play.

Theron for his part was lost in his own thoughts. Much had happened, too much in fact. The Keeper's words troubled him more than he liked to admit. He had an enemy; one he did not ask for and one that was far greater than him.

Asha'bellanar, the woman of many years or as the humans called her the witch of the wilds, Flemeth. Flemeth of the Kocari Wilds to be exact; the wilds they were headed towards. That was if the Keeper was telling the truth. _She probably is, but Asha'bellanar is supposed to be nothing more than a myth. Dead if human stories are to be believed._

"Ho there Du..." Theron pushed past the tall human adorned in gold armor and the guards surrounding him. He was far too entrenched in his own thoughts to consider whom he might have shoved aside. He did not stop until he felt the blade press into his neck.

He stared intently into the eyes of the guard in front of him. He was at a severe disadvantage. _I should do something . . . just in case._

"You know who just shoved elf?"

"No. Do you know who's going to be the virgin sacrifice at my next demonic ritual?" Theron leaned his throat in towards the blade just enough to draw blood. He was prepared now.

"Theron, that is his majesty King Cailan. The King of Ferelden that you have just pushed aside." Duncan called out to his ward trying to diffuse the situation. "And that is one of his guards you are threatening."

"I don't care. I'll be waiting on the bridge when you are done." Theron pushed aside the guard's blade and continued on.

"That is a lively new recruit you've found, Duncan." King Cailan smiled, his mood as impossible to dampen as ever. "And a Dalish as well. They are remarkably skilled or so I have heard."

"Yes, your majesty. This one holds great promise." Duncan bowed, "Was there something you wished to discuss. I was not expecting a royal welcome."

"You were spotted by the scouts so I decided to come greet you. I must admit I was afraid that you would miss all the fun."

"I would hardly call a blight 'fun' your majesty."

"Well, you should get out more then, Duncan." Cailan laughed, "But alas I must be on my way. No doubt Loghain wishes to bore me with his strategies. One last word, however, when we meet later tonight to discuss our plan for the battle bring your new recruit. I wish to meet him properly."

"As you wish your majesty." Duncan bowed one final time as he left to catch up with Theron.

Duncan found Theron on the great bridge staring down at the canyon below. Duncan noted how deep in thought the young elf was, his gaze analogous to the great depth of the canyon. He was not lost in thought, however. No, the mage's gaze in front of him was anything, but lost. His gaze was calculating.

Theron had a plan. Admittedly it was not a very good plan, but it was a start. He put the challenges that he currently faced in order of importance. _Survive illness, complete ritual, defeat blight, kill Asha'bellanar, and profit? _The latter three he was not sold on. Defeating a blight let alone an ancient immortal witch seemed a bit out of his league. Completing his ritual would happen. It was his life's work after all, but none of that mattered if he was dead. And Duncan assured him he was dying. He had a goal now and the means to achieve it. _Become a grey warden and live. _It was decided.

"You have much to learn about maintaining alliances." Duncan said, a small frown on his face "In the future I would appreciate it if you did not actively threaten to sacrifice the King and his men to a demon."

"I was only going to sacrifice the one guard." Theron replied, but Duncan's stare caused him to take heed, "Fine, no virgin sacrifice. Now you said something about a joining ritual."

"Yes, it is imperative that we complete it immediately." Duncan moved on, "However, I first need you to find Alistair. He is our newest Grey Warden."

"And why do I need to find him?"

"He will be lea... guiding you and the other two recruits into the Kocari Wilds to find the necessary materials for your joining." Duncan explained and Theron stopped, "Once you find Alistair he will guide you back to our camp for further instructions." Duncan took his leave.

Theron took in Duncan's words. He would have to go into the wilds. The Kocari Wilds. _Towards Asha'bellanar._

* * *

><p>Finding this Alistair had been his primary objective really it had, but when he felt the large concentration of mana coming from within the camp he had to find out what was going on. It was a fleeting kind of magic ephemeral, temporary, but ever present, the magic of a dream. It was the unmistakable feeling of a large group of mages interacting past the veil.<p>

It was there that he saw it, the first piece of the puzzle. The first step in completing his ritual. A large group of mages was gathered around a single chalice. It was there that he heard one of the mages speak.

"The chalice for the Warden's joining ritual is almost sufficiently charged."

_The blood of the Grey ones and a chalice to hold it in. _It was right there the first of his requirements for the ritual. It was there that he also found himself in the presence of a templar, a templar pointing a blade at him. Theron knew a little about the human mage hunters from the Keeper's teachings.

Templars were not a force to be trifled with lightly. They were the military arm of the human's chantry. The Chantry for its part was the governing religious body of the humans. Not that Theron cared about that part. He did not fear priests, but a templar? Yes, a mage should fear a templar if said mage wanted to live.

"The circle mages are not to be disturbed right now, elf."

"Heh, right then I'll just be on my way." Theron gave up for now and continued past the mages and their watchdogs. _I need to get that chalice, but how? A blood thrall would keep me from incriminating myself. It might work._

"Having fun with the templars, young man?" Theron turned to meet elderly eyes. The woman addressing him was old, but powerful; quite a bit more powerful than him. The woman was a mage.

"I am Wynne, of the circle of magi in Ferelden." The elder mage greeted, "And you must be Duncan's newest recruit. Are you aware that you are bleeding from your neck?"

Theron's hand rose to his wound. Left to his thoughts he had failed to heal himself after the encounter with the human guard. He frowned. _I need to be more aware._ "Yes, well I still bleed once a month. You jealous?"

The cold glare Theron received in turn sent shivers through him. He had received the same look from the Keeper before. It was old mixed with grandmotherly disappointment. Staring into the eyes of an eon old demon could not compare to such a look. She reminded him of the Keeper. Perhaps that was why he let his guard down. And she was so . . . old. Theron turned away and healed his cut.

Wynne for her part smiled. It was good to know that she could still put a child in his place when there was a need to. "You are a healer? It is good to meet another and from a Dalish clan?"

"Something of the sort and yes I am. I am Theron."

"Well met." Wynne smiled, "Tell me Theron do you know much about the darkspawn? I wonder what stories the Dalish tell."

"We don't know much about the darkspawn, but we're pretty sure it is the human's fault." Theron smirked in reply.

Wynne gave a small laugh in return. "Yes, well the Chantry and the Dalish have something in common then. They say it was the hubris of men that brought the forth the blight. The Chantry claims the magister lords of Tevinter sought to conquer the Golden City, throne of the maker," Wynne continued on seeing that she had the young mage's attention, "Where they were promptly thrown out by the Maker and for good measure transformed into the first darkspawn."

"Your Chantry says a lot of things then." Theron replied mostly to himself, not noticing the curious look Wynne gave him, "I'll kill one and dissect it. Then we'll see if there is any truth to the claim."

"Yes . . . Well truth or moral allegory. I would suggest you practice caution."

"Good advise." Theron nodded, "Tell me what are your fellow mages up to over there."

"Oh, you must have been curious feeling all that magic." Wynne said understanding his inquisitiveness; "They are aiding the grey wardens in their preparation for your joining ritual."

Theron had his confirmation now. He would have one more shot at claiming the chalice at his joining. _I need a plan now._

"I should be going now. I need to find someone." Theron nodded his goodbye as Wynne watched him leave.

Wynne continued to watch him. The boy was planning something of that much she was sure. She watched as he walked past a prisoner in his cage. She watched as he listened to the prisoner's plight for food. She watched in surprise as he helped the prisoner and convinced a guard to give in to the prisoner's request.

Wynne saw now that Theron was not a threat. Wynne saw now that he was just a boy trying to survive. Wynne saw that whatever he was planning it was not malevolent. Wynne smiled. Constant threat of demonic possession often made mages go just a little crazy. Well-adjusted mages were a good thing in this world. Wynne saw that perhaps the circle could learn a thing or two from the Dalish. Wynne stopped watching never knowing how much she did not see.

She did not see as he pricked his finger causing it to bleed. She did not see as he subjugated the guard's will; the guard never knowing the spell he was under. She did not see as he took the prisoner's cell key from the guard. She did not see as he inscribed the blood rune into the forehead of the prisoner. She did not see Theron's command being burned into prisoner's mind.

The command was simple. Retrieve the chalice. Theron left to find Alistair.

* * *

><p>"The Grand Cleric simply requests your presence, ser Mage," Alistair replied growing ever so slightly frustrated at the circle mage's hostility, "Try not to turn the messenger into a toad."<p>

"I will see the Grand Cleric. Now, out my way you templar reject."

"Oh and here I thought we were getting along so well. I was even going to name one of my children after you! The grumpy one." Alistair watched the prickly mage go turning to meet the curious blue gaze of the elf watching the scene. He saw the staff strapped to the elf's back and knew him as the Dalish mage Duncan had sent word of.

"Oh, are you another mage?" Alistair inquired.

"And you are Alistair." Theron questioned and seeing the human nod continued on, "Also, yes, I am a mage? You have a problem with that?"

"No, not really, but my training makes mages nervous you see." Alistair fidgeted a little, laughing uncomfortably, "I'm a templar or rather I was until Duncan conscripted me."

"I'm a blood mage."

Alistair blinked once at the response. "Oh, ha very funny, but I was being serious," Alistair assured him, "I took my vows and everything, crossed my fingers when I said them of course."

"I'm being serious as well."

Alistair knew the grey wardens accepted everyone. It had been a lesson taught to him by Duncan. A lesson he thought he had learned well. Still the elf's admittance set him on edge regardless of his training or perhaps because of it. Where did the grey warden begin and the templar end, he wondered.

"Well as long as you don't bathe in a pool of my blood. I think we'll get along just fine." Alistair declared putting aside his misgivings.

"You are odd." Theron declared.

"Says the man who enjoys cutting himself."

"And conversing with demons. Don't forget that part." Theron spoke once more his voice without emotion.

"Creepy. Are you intent on living up to every prejudice held against blood mages?" Alistair responded his eyebrow lifting.

"It's not prejudice if it's true."

Together they set off towards Duncan's tent both suspicious of the other and both trying to pry as much information as possible from the other. Both for the most part unsuccessful. Alistair couldn't even get a proper introduction from the mage and Theron had been unsuccessful in all, but one exchange.

"After this joining ritual how much will I be participating in the upcoming battle?" Theron had asked suddenly and to Alistair's surprise earnestly.

"You know that is a good question. I don't actually know." Alistair had recalled the letter Duncan sent to him. He spoke highly of the young mage in his writing. Duncan had a plan for him that much was certain. "I suppose it all depends on if you sur... complete your joining." Alistair had known immediately that Theron had caught his slip by the hardness of his gaze.

Alistair had refused to answer any questions after that. Theron was left to wonder at exactly what the joining would entail; a cure that might kill him. _Shemlen's have a funny definition of cure._

"Theron, you've found Alistair at last." Duncan welcomed them as two other shemlen stood next to him. One was large with a shaved head and wielded a rather large sword. The other had dark hair and had a bow strapped to his back.

Theron was the blood mage's name Alistair noted. "Ah, Duncan you got ser Jory and Daveth. Are we all ready to head into the Kocari Wilds?" Alistair asked as he nodded to the other two recruits.

Theron stood back taking in the information. The larger human was called Jory. He would serve well as a shield. The bow wielding human was Daveth. Theron thought he looked a little too shifty. Most importantly Theron's eyes met Duncan's; a clear exchange that stated that there would be a discussion later.

"Yes, Alistair, but only you and the recruits will be going. I am staying behind." Duncan broke away from his staring contest with Theron. Alistair's pulse quickened at Duncan's words. "You will be leading them."

At the word leading memories over took Alistair. _Blood and tendon. Strips of flesh; limbs severed. Templar initiate Martin's head in his lap. Martin's body on the other side of the hill._ _The eyes ripped from his fellow's skull. The bulbous flesh rotting, consumed in the white fire; an abomination. Silence where there should have been terror._ Alistair was panicking, but hid it well.

Only Theron and Duncan picked up on Alistair's fear; Theron because he could feel the speeding pulse of Alistair's heart and Duncan because he knew too much of his fellow warden's past as a templar. Theron took note, but little else. Duncan spoke to calm him.

"Alistair," Duncan commanded firmly, "You are not to take your position as leader too seriously. I have written down these directions here on the map. You are to follow them to the letter."

Alistair looked up focusing on Duncan's voice; it would be all right. Duncan was the real leader he was just to act as a guide, a sensor for the darkspawn. "Yes, Duncan."

"That's good and all, but anyone want to tell us lowly recruits what exactly we're going into the wilds for. Ser Knight over here has been a fright with anxiety." Daveth the man with a bow said referring to Jory.

"That is not true. I simply wish to know the task before us." Jory defended himself.

"Your task is retrieve three vials of darkspawn blood." Duncan explained.

Theron grew still. _A chalice and darkspawn blood. _The implications of Duncan's words lead to only one conclusion. _We're going to drink it._

"I suppose it's not the most disgusting thing I've ingested." Theron said entirely to himself, but was overheard nonetheless.

"What was that?" Came the confused reply of his fellow recruits.

Alistair stared with no small amount of incredulity. Theron had figured it out; that was not surprising. It was a bit obvious once you thought about it. No, what fueled his disbelief was the idea that Theron had drunk something viler than darkspawn blood. Alistair grew nauseous at the implication. "Ewww, that's . . . really disgusting. I'm done thinking for now."

"Enough. Theron, I would ask for your silence on the matter." Duncan's tone brokered no room for argument not that Theron would have, "There is also a Grey Warden outpost deep within the wilds that may hold valuable treaties. You are to retrieve them as well if at all possible. A word of caution darkspawn may not be the only threat you face. Chasind barbarians roam the wilds as well, be on alert."

* * *

><p>The trip into the Kocari Wilds had been eventful right from the beginning. Just fifty feet into the wilds and someone was begging for help. Just fifty feet! Theron knew because he had counted. He was in his most alert state. Asha'bellanar was supposed to be in these wilds and of course there were darkspawn. Their leader, no their guide, had assured them of that. But still just fifty feet!<p>

The group looked down at the wounded soldier crawling pitifully towards them begging for help. Two looked down with pity. One observed with fear hoping he would not end up like the soldier. One viewed him with a mild disinterest. The soldier continued to beg for their help.

Alistair informed them all that the man could not be saved, the darkspawn corruption to far gone within him. The man would not survive much longer. The soldier began to sob telling them of the darkspawn that attacked his regiment. The three humans stood still not knowing what to do. Theron slit the man's throat.

Daveth looked away. Jory could not and began to wretch. Alistair commented on crazy bloodthirsty elves that went around cutting people's throats randomly. Theron commented on cowardly humans who were incapable of doing what must be done. They all continued onward.

Just twenty more feet and Daveth began picking flowers and talking about sick dogs in need. Theron decided the human was going crazy.

The Wilds themselves certainly lived up to their name, twisted trees and random paths. Swamps green with various forms of plant life. The flowers themselves formed an arrangement of colors providing a scene that matched the sky. It was beautiful or it would have been if not for the corruption the darkspawn left behind.

Those same twisted trees that spoke of age and life, one in every few was now a dying grey. The swamps with its inhabitants should have sung with creatures both beautiful and hideous, but they were only silent with death. Those flowers retained their color, but were infected with a sickness that made one mad. Beauty, nature, wild and free should have been reflected here. But the Wilds now only embodied the world and the conflicts that plagued it.

Twenty minutes later and they found the darkspawn, Alistair alerting the group to their tainted presence. Jory and Alistair went after them directly, Jory with his great sword and Alistair with his sword and shield, they tore through the darkspawn ranks. Daveth provided cover fire distracting their foes whenever the swordsmen became overwhelmed. And Theron healed? It came as a great surprise to the three humans when their cuts began sewing themselves back together and their fatigue no longer plagued them.

Together they made quick work of the band of darkspawn. Without having to be asked Theron filled three flasks with the creature's blood. They did ask why he failed to mention that he was a healer. Theron shrugged and they carried on towards the warden outpost and the treaties.

Upon reaching the run down and abandoned outpost they found an empty chest where the treaties should have been. They found themselves staring at a woman with dark hair and yellow eyes. Eyes like that of a hawk. Except for Daveth. Daveth was leering at the woman.

She was beautiful and wild, her attire leaving little to the imagination. She was the Kocari Wilds a reflection of its beauty, of its power, but within her was none of the corruption that currently sickened what should have been alive.

"Well, well what have we here?" The yellow-eyed woman questioned them, "Are you a vulture, I wonder? Scavengers poking amidst a corpse whose bones have been long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

"Ooh great it's a Chasind barbarian I hear they're just lovely at tea parties and various other family gatherings." Alistair remarked, "Lucky us."

"You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" The woman taunted.

"Swooping is bad." Alistair replied slowly.

The woman turned to her gaze towards Theron tired of the humans before her. A defiant, bold, yellow met a cold, emotionless blue. And they knew each other as mage, one clearly more powerful than the other. _I do so love being emasculated by every female mage I meet. _Theron frowned, the raw magical prowess emanating from the woman out matched his own. _Asha'bellanar perhaps? No, she exceeds my ability, but the Keeper's presence certainly out ways hers. She is something else entirely._

"You, there Dalish. Your kind does not frighten so easily and you a fellow mage at that." The woman spoke, "Come, tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

"Theron Mahariel of the Dalish. Clan Sabrae to be exact." Theron allowed.

"Now that is a proper civil greeting. Your companions could learn much from one such as yourself." The woman spoke almost tauntingly, "I am Morrigan and you are in my wilds."

"Any reason you couldn't be this polite to me when we met, Theron?" Alistair mused aloud.

"You are not an incredibly powerful witch, Alistair." Theron spoke jokingly hoping to secretly convey to him the substantial threat this Morrigan might pose. Alistair seemed to catch on if the hardening of his eyes were any indication. Unfortunately Jory and Daveth failed to prove as capable.

"She's a witch!" Jory all, but screamed, "She'll put us all in a pot she will." It would have been funny to see the large human so frightened had the situation not been so unclear.

"A witch of the wilds? They're supposed to be nothing, but a legend." Daveth spoke his eyes widening.

"A witch of the wilds. Such idle fancies." Morrigan spoke amused by their fear, "I wonder, have you no minds of your own. Such that you must cling to children's tales?"

"It would appear three of us do not." Theron frowned frustrated.

"He-ey, I got your warning!" Alistair defended himself.

"Congratulations would you like a treat?" Theron deadpanned.

"Cheese if you've got it." Alistair's response caused Theron to sigh, "Is that a no then?"

"Theron, you have yet to tell me why you are here," Morrigan grew tired of their presence, "Shall I guess your purpose then? T'would seem you are here in search of treaties, treaties long since gone. Treaties that are here no longer."

"Here no longer," Alistair said mocking Morrigan's accent. "You stole them didn't you? You... you're some kind of sneaky... witch thief!"

"And you had the audacity to claim a mind of your own. Truly it boggles my mind," Morrigan said unimpressed by his description of her.

"You admit the treaties have been gone for a long time." Theron cut in between their exchange, "Does that mean you know where they are? Do you know who took them?"

"Ah, yes I do." Morrigan returned her gaze to Theron, "T'was my mother in fact."

"You're telling that joke incorrectly. It is funnier if you invoke my mother's name."

Morrigan stared at Theron confused for the briefest of seconds. "If t'was a joke it is the truthful rather than funny sort." Morrigan continued on, "Come, I will take you to her if you so wish."

"We need those treaties, but I don't trust this Morrigan." Alistair whispered to Theron.

Theron was interested to find that Alistair was looking to him for the decision. The suspicion he held regarding Alistair was all, but confirmed. _One final test to make sure._ "I don't know you should decide . . . Oh fearless leader." Theron smiled darkly.

Alistair's pulse went erratic. His eyes glazed over in ill-gotten memories. _Strips of flesh; limbs severed. Templar initiate Martin's head in his lap. Martin's body on the other side of the hill. The eyes ripped from his fellow's skull. The bulbous flesh rotting, consumed in the white fire; an abomination. Silence where there should have been terror._

Theron felt it all. The wild, pounding pulse of a prey that knew its end had come. The overworked heart of a man afraid; it was a beautiful symphony. Being a blood mage truly had its benefits. He now knew what terror held Alistair. _He is incapable of leading a group. Making a decision leaves him little more than a husk._

"I say we go with her." Theron said once his theory had survived his test. He noticed how Alistair calmed himself after that. Theron left with Morrigan and the others followed.

* * *

><p>The hut in which Morrigan and her mother lived was anything, but impressive. It was pathetic really a small thing of little consequence unlikely to survive even the slightest of trauma. Waiting to greet them was a frail old woman and a chessboard resting on a tree stump, a game waiting to be played. Theron paid it no attention. No, it was the decrepit old woman before him that commanded his attention.<p>

Her outward appearance was unimpressive. Frazzled grey hair, wrinkled skin and a frail body, but the same yellow eyes as Morrigan, the eyes of a predator. She let off no mana in fact she appeared devoid of it. And yet Theron found it hard to breath in her presence. Her power so great it need not even be present for one to tremble at its might. Most troubling was her pulse; she had none. This ancient woman was a void, empty and deserted. She was the abyss. Theron stared into it, into her . . . and she stared back. _Asha'bellanar._

"Ah, and so you've brought them here, girl." The old woman spoke, "They are much as I expected and not as I expected." Her gaze shifted from Morrigan back to Theron.

"Do you really expect us to believe that you knew we were coming?" Alistair challenged.

"Don't taunt her. She's a witch she is." Jory warned.

"Shut it ser Knight. If she really is a witch do you think being polite will save us?" Daveth teased, "Don't believe every children's story you hear."

"Believe what you will. Open one's arms wide or shut one's eyes tight. Either way one's a fool." Morrigan's mother spoke her attention still on Theron, "And what of you? You are no human and a mage as well. Does your Dalish mind offer a different viewpoint? What do you believe?"

"It matters not what I believe. When the truth is known it must simply be accepted, Asha'bellanar." Theron answered still in disbelief at the vile truth now known.

"Now there is the answer I was looking for, but did not expect." Asha'bellanar smiled in response, "Marethari has taught you well, Theron. But can you trust all that she has told you?"

She knew his name. She knew the Keeper. _The Keeper has not been completely honest. _Theron's eyes widened in surprise no longer able to hide his unease; it was only his training as a blood mage that kept him from revealing the signs of a frightened prey. Sweat dripping, breath drawing quicker, muscles tensing, heart pounding, Theron offered this immortal being none of these things and yet the smallest knowing smile shadowed her face. Asha'bellanar knew his fear.

Alistair looked at him and Morrigan gazed curiously at her mother. "How is it that you know each other?" They spoke in unison.

"Well, you see we met once in the Brecilian forest . . . I was intoxicated and . . . it was dark. I swear she looked a lot . . . younger." Theron rambled quickly trying to regain his composure, "Asha' made me a man."

Alistair looked disgusted and Morrigan simply raised one elegant eyebrow in disdain at the joke. Jory looked sick again and Daveth looked . . . mildly impressed?

"Ha-ha! Greet your father, sweet Morrigan!" Asha'bellanar snorted in laughter, while Theron opened his arms for an embrace from the younger witch that would not come.

"They did not come to hear your wild tales mother." Morrigan crossed her arms angrily. She would have her answers eventually. "And I certainly do not wish to hear your flirtations. T'is sickening truly."

"Ah, yes you came for your treaties and one of you came for a game." Asha'bellanar looked towards the chessboard and back to Theron. "You can move first, while I retrieve your papers."

Theron knew not why he listened to her words. Perhaps it was his love of the game. Perhaps he was of afraid of the punishment of non-compliance. Perhaps he was under a spell. Whatever the case he made his move carelessly.

Theron moved the pawn in front of his king two spaces. The action was random. He was too unfocused to care, too apprehensive. His gazed stayed on Asha'bellanar. Her very presence a snake, coiled around his neck. Ever so slowly applying pressure, squeezing the life from him. Slimy scales tickling his back and a slow hiss invading the sanctity of his mind. The emptiness of her being was taunting him. He felt cold.

"Here you are. The magical ward protecting your treaties had faded. I was protecting them." Asha'bellanar explained handing the treaties to Alistair.

"You protected them? I . . . thank you?" was his only reply.

"You have what you came for. Now time for you to depart from here." Morrigan demanded.

"Don't be silly girl," Her mother scolded, "These are your guests. Show some manners."

"Very well. Follow me and I will lead you out of here." Morrigan relented.

The group moved past Theron, but he stood still, gazing once more at the chessboard in front of him and then to the empty being that set his mind on edge.

"You haven't made your move." Theron found himself asking and yet the way he said it implied no question.

Asha'bellanar smiled fully at him. A sight he hoped he would never see again in his life. His body convulsed in terror, the old witch achieving true domination over his being. All without shedding a single drop of blood. _This is true power._

"No, I have not."

* * *

><p>He had not said a single word and yet they followed him. He was the smallest physically and yet they followed him. It was the human with the bow that muzzled him and brought him his cure and yet it was the elf he stared at. It was the human with the bow that wanted him and yet it was the elf he had imprinted. The elf was a born leader and the mabari wanted to be lead.<p>

After Daveth's brief side trip to the kennels the group returned to find Duncan awaiting them. Seriousness in his posture and his mouth drawn into a grim line told the recruits that their trials were not yet over.

It was dark now. The sun had disappeared leaving no horizon. It was an appropriate setting for what was to come. Duncan spoke congratulating them on their success, but told them that the real task was still to come. The fatal words brought out Alistair's sadness, Jory's fear, and Daveth's resignation. The Joining might kill them.

Theron was not affected by the words; no he focused on his own plans. His eyes finding the prisoner he had inscribed his will upon. His prisoner. Theron found him the rune upon his forehead glowing faintly before once again disappearing. He needed to hurry, to acquire the power that would save him from the emptiness of the abomination he had encountered in the Wilds. His parent's ritual was his salvation. He needed that chalice. He was desperate now.

The Joining ritual was to happen now. It would be his best opportunity at retrieving that chalice. Theron forced a thought into the mind of his subject. _Follow, but remain unseen._

Duncan led them to their final resting place. The place where they would lay their former lives to bed and awaken to become grey wardens or the place where they would not awaken at all. All they were before, their previous existences, would die here in either case. It was the place Theron had first met Alistair. And there, resting on a stone alter, sat Theron's goal, his cure, his chalice.

Duncan poured the corrupted blood into Theron's prize, picking it up and holding it out towards the recruits; understanding finally alight in Daveth and Jory's minds. Duncan's gaze pierced all three of them and Alistair looked away memories of his own joining returning.

"No . . . you can't really expect us to . . ." Jory stuttered out.

"You see now what we are? What we must become to fight the darkspawn. To defeat the blight." Duncan spoke solemnly, "There is no glory in what we do, in what we are. There is only necessity. Alistair speak the words and welcome our new family."

"Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn." Alistair spoke the humor usually found in his voice now dead, "And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

"Daveth step forward."

Theron watched as Daveth took the tainted offering from Duncan's hands. Theron watched Daveth drink, Duncan reclaiming the prize. He watched as what was to be his cure killed his fellow recruit. The iris and pupil of Daveth's eyes now gone clouded over in what Theron recognized as a premonition. Duncan apologized to the deceased bowman. What horrors he saw in his last moments of life Theron would soon know.

Duncan turned towards Jory all the while unaware of the workings of Theron's mind. _Need that chalice. But cannot act until I've drunken from it and cured myself. _Theron looked once more at Daveth's dead body. _It affects the host quickly. Small window of opportunity between Duncan handing chalice to me and the following unconsciousness . . . or death._

Once more he looked to Duncan and Jory. The large fearful human begging for his life, refusing to drink, drawing his sword against Duncan. "I have a wife . . . and a child on the way. You can't ask this of me!" Duncan ended his life with a single swing of his blade; the chalice forgotten. _Could act now! _The prisoner was in position waiting for further command. _No have to drink first._

Duncan stared into his eyes offering the cure to him. Theron did not hesitate. He drank; the taste was unlike that of normal blood. It was not metallic and warm, but rather sweet and cold. Too sweet, overpowering even. Theron began to choke. Too cold he couldn't feel his limbs numbness overtaking them. Theron began to shake.

Duncan reached for the chalice. _Must act now_. Theron convulsed, faking pain, taking away Duncan's grab for the chalice. He threw the it over the small cliff and into the lands below knowing the prisoner would act solely to his one imprinted purpose. _Fetch boy._

"Alistair get the chalice." Duncan commanded. Alistair would find nothing.

And then Theron shook once more, but not in jest. The taint overtook him. He was on fire or perhaps his body was so cold that anything not matching his own temperature became unbearable to him. His eyes clouded over white covering blue. And he dreamt of a dragon.

Its form greater than any he had ever witnessed; sharp and twisted, the epitome of all that was vile. Its scales a deep black, its eyes so dark Theron began to fear he would fall into them never to return. There was music.

**Ouy oosech bellreoni revo ceanlipmoc?**

"Duncan I couldn't find it."

"It is alright I will commission another, but . . . he reacted so violently?"

**Ouy oosech ot anced tharer nath gins?**

"Did he survive?"

"Yes, we have a new brother."

**Neth I lliw veah oury gles.**

"Duncan he is waking up!"

**The Grey ones die tonight.**

* * *

><p>Theron awoke to find Duncan and Alistair standing over him, both with looks of concern and relief. Theron sat up slowly regaining his equilibrium. The world seemed muted without the music. He barely recognized the words Duncan spoke to him.<p>

"Welcome, Brother." Duncan said, there was a pride in his eyes, "Your joining is complete. And before you ask, yes, your sickness is cured. Tell me how do you feel?"

"I've been worse." Theron stood up still dizzy, but now able to think clearly, "Or at least I think I've been worse." _I need to get to the prisoner._

"Did you have dreams." Alistair asked concern in his voice, "I remember when I went through my joining. I had terrible dreams."

"Such occurrences are common place." Duncan explained, "But alas there is still one last part to the joining. Alistair if you will."

Alistair handed Theron a necklace hanging from it was a vial filled with a substance Theron knew well. Blood. "This is the blood from the joining. It is to remind us of those who did not make; those who sacrificed themselves. The grey wardens who never made it."

It was then that Theron noticed that both Daveth and Jory's bodies were absent. _Sacrificed indeed. _He wondered if that too was part of the joining ritual. It would make sense. Life from another, so that one might have the power to survive the grey transformation. Such rituals were not unheard of. But most importantly, Theron realized, he had just received another important piece to his ritual.

Blood of the Grey ones and a chalice to hold it in; he had his blood now he just needed his chalice. He felt the presence of his thrall close by just below the steps in fact. _Good everything went perfectly._

"Heh, well this is great and not at all creepy or immoral in any sort of way." Theron began and added quickly, "Not that it would bother me! But could you guys go so I can I have a few minutes to collect myself."

Alistair nodded in what he thought was understanding. He had wanted some time to himself after his joining as well. There was a battle he had to prepare himself for in any case. He left with a final encouraging smile.

Duncan, however, had stayed behind leaving Theron to wonder what he had to say. "I know this is sudden, but the King has requested your presence at the meeting before the battle tonight." Duncan explained, while Theron tilted his head curiously, "It is in ten minutes. I am afraid you will have to collect yourself quickly."

Theron nodded his acceptance and Duncan left. Theron waited until both Duncan and Alistair were out of reach. He would have to make this quick. "You can come out now. I would like to see my prize."

The prisoner he had subjugated came forward, the blood rune on his forehead glowing a dull red fully revealing itself to the one who had created it. He handed the chalice over to Theron who tucked it away in his bag for safekeeping.

Chalice retrieved. The command had been fulfilled, the deal done. The dull glowing rune disappeared leaving only a frightened man behind. Theron stared at the prisoner cooly. The drawback to a blood rune was the fact that the victim retained the memories of the acts they had been forced to commit, but in return it allowed for a subject to pursue a single goal while under its effects without requiring a constant influx of mana.

"Wh-what did you do to me?" The prisoner asked wide-eyed and trembling, "Y-you're a blood mage aren't you."

"What did I do? I fed you and I freed you and I gave you purpose." Theron's words only served to frighten the man further, "Say thank you, Theron."

"Th-thank y-you Theron." the prisoner was now bound by a force similar to blood. He was bound by fear. ". . . wh-what will you do with me now? Y-you aren't afraid I'll tell someone?"

"And if you did? The words of a deserter against that of a grey warden? Who do you think they will believe?" Theron took a step forward whispering in his ear, pricking his finger releasing just the smallest amount of blood, "And if you did? . . . Tell me have you ever had every single drop of blood ripped from your veins? Those precious ounces of life yearning for release, tearing from your very pores."

The prisoner's only response was a sharp inhale.

"You wouldn't scream you know. There's simply too much of the stuff. There are veins everywhere in your body. It would drown your lungs . . . fill your throat. I personally believe most die from suffocation before blood loss. What do you think?"

The prisoner was no longer breathing.

Theron continued, "They're both peaceful ways to go I suppose. And all it would take is a single drop of my blood to make it happen." Theron brought his wounded finger up for both them to see and said with just the smallest amount of innocent curiosity, "Oh, look I'm bleeding."

The prisoner ran.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Well I got chapter 2 up faster than I expected, which is surprising. I should offer some explanation. I will repeat this is an AU and because of it I have altered Alistair's past. He did become a Templar and certain events during his time as a templar have caused him to develop a crippling fear of leading. Other than his new phobia, I hope that I have kept him in character, he really is pretty awesome in the game (feel free to harass me if I have done a poor job). All will be explained in future chapters I promise.

**Freizer:** Thank you for the review. You are the first and for that you win . . . . . my undying gratitude! It is worth about as much as it sounds. I will try and keep the balance (I think you were referring to power levels) as I have sort of hinted at in these last two chapters my Theron is actually the weakest mage to come along in the story so far and as such will have to take on his opponents in a different sort of way. Again thank you for the review it truly means a lot.


	3. Friends?

DAO: The Lonely Path

Chapter 3: Friends?

As Theron walked to meet Duncan and the King, he could not help, but feel quite proud. He had diffused the situation without having to kill anyone or use blood magic. The Keeper would have approved he told himself.

Furthermore, he had done something right, a good deed. _Warm fuzzies and all that. _He had offered the man a chance at freedom, given him his life back. Sure the former prisoner might suffer some severe form of mental trauma in the near future, but those were mere trifles compared to the gift of life and liberty. Perhaps the man would even come to appreciate what Theron had done. Perhaps they could be friends one day.

Now it was time to get out of the warden's grasp, out of the war. Staying made no sense now that he was cured. He could die and if he died he couldn't kill Asha'bellanar or complete his ritual. Not that he wanted to kill Asha'bellanar, not that he even could. Perhaps he could elude the Keeper's plan for him.

Freedom was a foreign concept to him until now, but first it would require finding a way to get out of the wardens. _The war will provide a nice opportunity for that_. _Death in combat will allow me to slip away unnoticed. And I'll be a hero!_

Theron could not contain his smile as he greeted Duncan.

Duncan nodded to him in slight confusion, wondering at the wide smile. An older man with dark eyes adorned in silver armor looked at him unconcerned with his presence and then refocused his attention to the map on the table. King Cailan took Theron's jovial nature as an indication that the newest warden was just as excited for the battle as him.

"Ah your newest recruit has finally arrived Duncan!" Cailan declared smiling at the young mage, "Your addition to the wardens brings honor to yourself as well as the order. Congratulations my friend. May we both find glory in the coming battle."

Duncan interrupted, "Your majesty I must warn you there is a possibility that the Archdemon may reveal itself in this battle. Perhaps we should wait for Arl Eamon's reinforcements."

"And that's why you are here isn't it, Duncan? The grey wardens are supposed to deal with the Archdemon, no?"

"I . . . Yes, your majesty that is correct."

"King Cailan with all due respect a few grey wardens will hardly win us the battle." The man with the dark eyes spoke. His voice was harsh with experience. "I would suggest you do away with silly legends and pull our troops back."

"If you are so concerned with defeat Loghain perhaps we should wait for the troops from Orlais?"

"To think that you would open our lands to be captured by those Orlesian bastards!" Loghain all, but yelled, "What would your father have said?"

"If you do not wish for the Orlesian's help then tell me your strategy Loghain." Cailan replied easily, "That is why you are here after all."

Loghain gave in and pointed towards the map. "You and the army shall engage the darkspawn here directly."

"Yes and you shall await the signal and attack from the rear, flanking the darkspawn hoard." Cailan jumped in excitedly, "I remember, but we will need someone to light the signal fire at the top of the Tower of Ishal. And we should send our best. Alistair and our newest Grey Warden companion will go."

"So my part in the battle is to light a fire?" Theron asked his eyebrow raising.

"You would prefer to be on the front lines battling for glory would you?" Loghain, spoke to him condescendingly.

"Oh, no that's just fine with me. I like fires."

"Right then . . . See Loghain glory for everyone!" Cailan exclaimed.

Loghain's only response was a sigh. Duncan and Theron decided it was for them to take their leave.

* * *

><p>When Alistair had been informed of the plan he was not as excepting as Theron had been.<p>

"Why don't you just put me in a dress and have me dance the remigold instead, Duncan? That would be equally as useful to the battle."

"Do you usually cross dress in your free time, Alistair?" Theron decided to add.

"Why? You interested because I'll have you know I don't sheathe my sword that way."

"Heh, well that's surprising I thought you and Duncan, were, well you know." Theron motioned with his hands rather inappropriately.

"Well, I suppose if it was Duncan . . ."

"Enough," Duncan groaned, not really wanting to hear the end of Alistair's comment. It was no longer time for jokes; the army had amassed in the canyon waiting for the darkspawn hoard to attack. "It is important that you two successfully light the signal."

"Relax Duncan how hard can lighting one little fire actually be? And besides we have a trusty mage here to provide flames on command."

"I can't actually conjure flames," Theron decided to inform Alistair.

"Oh, well what good are you then?"

Theron only shrugged in response. Duncan groaned once more in frustration. "Just head to the tower and do your job."

The command had been given, the truth of the impending war setting in. Alistair stared once more to the man he owed so much to. "May the maker watch over you, Duncan."

"May he watch over us all."

* * *

><p>Lighting struck and thunder roared. The sound of the storm crashed against the armor of the human army. The army was stuck in a staring contest with the darkspawn hoard that roared in defiance; neither force initiating combat. A battle of wills wage between the two factions. The first to fear would be the first to strike, the first to fall. Darkspawn were incapable of fear.<p>

At first they roared at the humans egging them on; the screams of the tainted creatures filling the minds of the soldiers. Then they were silent and then they danced.

The unnatural sway forming a rhythm, a pattern that fueled the disgust of the men and yet no eye dared to look away. Their dance did not advance the hoard one step, but it felt as if they were at the backs of every man. The taint wanted a partner; it wanted them.

And then they sang. Warbles, shrieks, and cries filled the air. Their melody became one; their song filled the night. Drowning out the storm. Suffocating the soldiers.

A single darkspawn stepped forward.

"Release the mabari!" King Cailan screamed.

Beast crashed into beast, one loyal and one corrupted, both aiming to kill. The darkspawn line was stalled in their clash against the mabari and then the arrows rained down on the order of the King. Both darkspawn and mabari fell in the storm.

It was a move of desperation Duncan noted looking at the wild eyes of the young king. The darkspawn had won the mental battle. The soldiers were stirring and slowly the darkspawn were advancing even against the might of the archers and mabari.

Finally, a single darkspawn broke through no soldier challenging its momentum and the unexpected happened. The King rushed meeting it in mid-charge, decapitating the creature, with the a swing of his sword. Turning and shouting so that all could hear, Cailan declared, "Not very smart are they? Poor creature lost its head both figuratively and literally."

The soldier's cheered, morale restored. Duncan then realized the reason King Cailan had been able to command the army despite his inexperience. It was charisma; the young man knew how to rally men. Duncan realized perhaps there was more to the brash youth then he first thought.

"Wardens! For Ferelden!" Duncan ordered his men as he drew his swords, joining the king on the front lines. The army followed soon after.

And for a while they were successful. They had gained ground pushing the darkspawn back towards the forest, but the army was tiring and the darkspawn continued to charge, their numbers never seeming to wane. Duncan looked up towards the tower of Ishal, they had to have been fighting for almost half an hour now and still no signal came.

The tremor shaking the ground drew Duncans attention away. The ogres were emerging from the forest. Their massive size and great horns caused the army to give up some ground. Where was the signal? Finally it lit, but no reinforcements would come.

* * *

><p>"Jory, Daveth, protect me!" Theron yelled running back out of the room. He rolled away from the strike of the ogre and pushed the two soldiers that had accompanied him and Alistair into the Tower of Ishal, towards the beast that struck at him. None of them expected the darkspawn that had overrun the tower, but the ogre been a real surprise. How did they even fit that thing through the doors in the first place?<p>

"My name isn't Jory!"

"And I'm not Daveth!"

They both yelled at Theron informing him for what must have been the tenth time. They both overtook the darkspawn Theron had run from, but ran back out of the room when they saw the ogre.

Theron and Alistair ducked behind a door to avoid oncoming arrows. "Must you keep calling them that?" Alistair asked a little angrily. They were just outside of their goal, a goal that was guarded by an ogre. Alistair sighed to himself.

_Four archers, one swordman, an ogre, and I think I saw a mage too. _"Denial is the first part of the grieving process." Theron responded peaking out from behind the wall that separated them from the room, only to retreat back as an arrow was fired his way. _We are not making any more progress. There's just too many and we need to hurry. At least that ogre can't fit through this door. Really how did they get that thing in there?_

"Well what's the next stage? This one is tiresome. And disturbing, not to mention insulting to their memory!" Alistair yelled a little more angrily this time, striking down a darkspawn that had charged through their make shift barricade as the pseudo Daveth and Jory joined them.

_Swordsman down. Good job Alistair._

"Bargaining, I think? That's the stage where I dig up their dead bodies, reanimate them, and pretend that they are still alive. They're not actually conscious so no real communication skills, but I'll have to settled." Theron responded ignoring the disturbed looks he was receiving, "Besides I almost have Jory's voice down. I can provide my own commentary. You will join us for tea won't you Alistair?"

"He's joking right?" replacement Jory asked sounding frightened. He was playing his role well.

Alistair shrugged raising his shield and trying once more to make it past the door, but to no avail as he was finally driven back. An arrow grazed a weak spot in his armor causing him to bleed.

_It's almost like they know we need to light that fire. No, not possible darkspawn incapable of higher level thought process._

"Damn," Alistair cursed, reaching for something to stop the bleeding, not that it was life threatening. The bleeding stopped, however, and the wound started to sew itself up. Theron was healing him Alistair realized. In fact Theron must have been healing them for some time as none of them had a single wound or seemed to be tiring. "Thanks Theron."

_I'm going to have try and enthrall the archers or we'll never get through._

"Keep it in your pants, Tamlen."

_But can I? I nearly passed out last time in the mirror room._

"Tamlen?"

"What?" Theron asked surprised at hearing that name from Alistair.

_I had trouble just controlling one and there are four archers._

"You called me Tamlen. Who's Tamlen?" Alistair asked confused.

"I did?" Theron said equally confused. _I did say that, but why?_ "Err . . . Heh . . . grieving process." _Ignore it, more important problems right now. Like enthralling four darkspawn, but can I? That damned buzzing will probably come back too._

"Damn it," Alistair yelled as the replacement Daveth fired his second to last arrow, "Why can't they just explode or something."

_Explode! That's it. Don't need to control all. Just one. I love watching things explode. But I need a clear view without getting shot at._

"Alistair I've got a plan. I need you to block the arrows long enough for me to work my magic." Theron declared gaining Alistair's full attention. Alistair stared at the mage there was something in his cold gaze that made him believe the elf. "But Alistair's going to need your shield Jory junior. " Theron said turning his gaze to the soldier.

"But it was gift from my wife and then I'll have nothing to protect myself with." The man whined.

"Damn it Jory! Just give me your blasted shield and I'll buy you a new one!" Alistair shouted realizing what Theron was planning.

Alistair took the man's shield and his own putting one on each arm ready to tank the oncoming arrows.

"Denial, bargaining, and anger all in one step. I'm impressed Alistair."

"The grieving process is important." Alistair grunted out in response.

"So that means you'll come to my tea party right?" Theron said cutting himself allowing the blood to become his power.

"Shut up. I hate you. You're a bad person." Alistair only half joked

Walking in front of the door with both shields raised Alistair bought the time Theron needed to cast his spell. Theron subjugated a single archer to his will stopping its movement and to his surprise it was effortless. The buzzing was still there, but it lacked the strain it had caused the first time. No sporadic pulse. No cold feeling. Their heart beat in unison. He was connected to the darkspawn.

Theron realized why it was so easy this time. _I have the same pulse as them. The joining it must have . . ._

"Sorry to interrupt, but I can't block these forever Theron! Ogre's heading this way too. I refuse to block that thing for you!"

Theron responded immediately forcing the enthralled archer to attack the others causing confusion. Theron then cast his favorite spell on all four of the darkspawn, while they were distracted. The blue light of the spell hit its targets. "Daveth the second shoot one of the darkspawn I just cast the spell on! Everyone else behind the door now!"

The arrow hit true and then an explosion, followed by three more. _Corrosive walking bomb spell. Heh it's beautiful. _The howls of the dying ogre filled tower as the chain reaction of corrosive explosions ate away at its flesh.

Theron stumbled in towards the room weak from the amount of blood it had cost to cast that many spells at once. Alistair finished the ogre off driving his sword into its skull. Theron chuckled a bit; explosions were always fun. All he had to do now was light the fire.

Mummers filled the hall, a chanted verse. The presence of mana raised the hairs on his arms. _Shit forgot about darkspawn mage._Theron turned around to meet the eyes of the darkspawn its fireball spell nearing completion. There was no time to dodge; the inferno would consume them all. Theron desperately tried to form a shield, but it was no use.

Alistair swung his blade once more, missing the target, seeming to fail, but the mana of the darkspawn mage disappeared, its spell cancelled. Alistair continued his assault ramming his shield into the darkspawn. And then there was fire.

Its rotting flesh was consumed in the white flames; the white flames absorbing the mana. The darkspawn tried to gather energy for a healing spell, but it was no use. The more mana the tainted mage called upon the larger the flames grew. The darkspawn drowned itself in the fire. Tainted flesh now burning; the mage was no more.

It died slowly and in agony; its own power being used against it. Those white flames the bane of any mage. Those white flames could consume him. Alistair could control him. He could force him to stay in the warden's. The Templer's were very good at subjugation. _No, They won't._

Theron watched and knew the true power of a templar. He knew the danger he was in_._ Someone capable of neutralizing his every move could not be allowed to survive.

_Alistair immediate threat. Sword swings cancel mana and white fire does . . . something. Distance must be maintained at all times in confrontation. Hit and run tactics must be employed until worn down. Or surprise. Death before realization of attack. I have to . . ._

"Theron are you all right you look pale." Alistair said meeting his gaze alarmed at the predatory look he received in reply, "Whoa, easy there all the darkspawn are dead now. You should heal that cut on your wrist before you bleed out."

Theron scolded himself for his momentary lapse. _Panic useless. Deal with threat. Still risky. Must test, gain information. _"Well, I'll leave the fire to you seeing as how you . . . **impressed **us all with that little display of yours."

"Yes, well it's not something that can be done in quick succession you see." Alistair said laughing as he scratched his head awkwardly, embarrassed by the praise.

_Good, time delay. Unless he is lying. Still best to strike is now_. "Fine I'll light it the old fashioned way." Theron smiled as walked over to the signal to light it. He drew his knife carefully concealing it from view as he worked on the fire. With the fire lit he walked back towards Alistair. _Strike at jugular must be quick. Then create distance to avoid retaliation. Then enthrall the other two. Have them slice each others throats. All dead in less than five minutes. Walk out through front door. Free of grey wardens, hopefully free of Marethari and Asha'bellanar as well._

"See told you all mages can light a fire," Alistair smiled at his fellow grey warden.

_Five feet from target. Remember be quick._

"Apparently templars can too. That was very impressive Alistair."

_Three feet. Create distance afterward._

"Yes, well what was it you said to me? Keep it in your pants?"

Theron gave a small chuckle, but continued towards Alistair.

_Two feet from target. Enthrall other two. Have them slice each other's throats._

"Besides you were pretty impressive yourself. You handle combat well," Alistair, returned the praise, "Plus explosions!"

_One foot. All dead in less than five minutes. Walk out front door. Freedom._

"You'll be a great addition to the wardens. I hope we'll continue to be on assignment together once this is over."

_In range. Strike now. Goodbye Alistair._

"Welcome to the fold brother."

_Brother?_ Theron met his eyes they were earnest, easy to trust. _Trust gets you killed. But this hesitation, why? Doesn't matter strike now. _The gleam of his knife shone bright in the room. Theron struck too late.

Theron felt the first arrows puncture his lungs and heard Alistair's warning. Reinforcement darkspawn stormed the room killing the Daveth and Jory clones. The last thing Theron saw before losing consciousness was Alistair fighting against the hoard.

* * *

><p>Theron awoke slowly, calmly in fact. He recalled the darkspawn storming into the tower after the fire had been lit and him being pierced by one too many arrows. <em>What happened? Think. Was trying to kill Alistair, but hesitation. No I struck, but was interrupted. Damn darkspawn. Still have to be smart gather information.<em>

He took note of his location and status; it was the smart thing to do. He found himself on a bed in nothing but his underwear. Whatever hut he was in was best described as . . . seedy. Theron was confused.

_Luckily I don't find myself in this position very often. Or perhaps unluckily. Seedy and naked can be good sometimes. Like that time when . . ._

"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother will be pleased."

Theron turned to meet his greeter. It was that witch from the Kocari Wilds, Asha'bellanar's daughter. _Shit. First templar now immortal witch who's trying to kill me; my lucky day._ "What?" was the only reply Theron could muster.

"The darkspawn overpowered you. I am Morrigan lest you have forgotten and you are in my hut where I am bandaging your wounds." The witch explained.

"Ah, I see this is the part where I get slowly tortured until I'm begging for death and then allowed to recuperate whilst being treated like a king to build a false sense of hope only to be tortured again?" Theron rambled staring up at the ceiling, "Also we can't forget about the humiliating sexual exploitation that follows shortly after. Where I will be little more than a husk. But be warned I enjoy that sort of thing."

"Rest assured Warden, sexually exploiting you is not something I would ever consider." Morrigan replied.

Theron looked over at Morrigan as if he was suddenly remembering her presence. "Oh, but I wasn't referring to you. Still your interest is flattering, but that mother of yours is just . . ."

"I think that is enough."

"Right and how did I get here exactly? Also where is your mother? Oh and what happened to the whole darkspawn hoard thing?"

"Your battle was a loss. It seems the man who was supposed to provide reinforcements after your signal, quit the field. It was a massacre shortly there after. Your grey wardens are dead." Morrigan answered.

_Loghain? He's smarter than he looks. Also treacherous could be a threat._

"As for your arrival, mother retrieved you and your friend from the tower," Morrigan said with some disgust, "They are outside speaking much like us."

"Friend? You mean Alistair?"

"Yes, the slow, dim witted templar. His tears have been particularly bothersome since the event. You think a warden would be more inclined to action than naval gazing." Morrigan said her dislike of Alistair clear, "Perhaps you can quiet your friend."

"I was about to until darkspawn interrupted. Jugular was so close." Theron said to himself.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. So is your mother going to kill me now or is she the type to play with her food first?"

"I do not know, but it would seem awfully counterproductive to save you from sure death only to kill you afterwards." Morrigan was growing suspicious, well in truth she had been suspicious ever since their first encounter when it was made clear that the elf knew her mother. She would bide her time, however, dealing with her mother required finesse not brute force.

"I suspect Asha'bellanar wants to see me then?" Theron asked, it was his turn for information. _Surprise Morrigan catch her off guard._

"Perhaps. Is there a reason for you to see her?"

_Surprise her. But how? _Theron had strong feeling that she would be able to see through his lies so he chose to do the opposite. "I don't know. All I know is that my keeper says I have to kill her. It's kind of a lot of responsibility."

"I . . . see. I do not envy your task if that is true," Morrigan ventured slowly, "Mother did wish to see you once you had awoken. You should be off then."

"Alright," Theron nodded dressing himself and grabbing his pack. _That exchange was . . . entirely unsuccessful. _"Thank you for healing me Morrigan."

"I . . . you are welcome, but mother did most of the work. I am no healer."

Theron smiled. There was information there Asha'bellanar healed him personally. That indicated that she wanted him alive for now. Theron also noted the hesitation with, which Morrigan took his thanks, but stored it away for later.

* * *

><p>Exiting the hut now clothed and with his pack of supplies he heard Alistair's shouts.<p>

"How do I even know he's alive? Why should I believe any of this?"

"Because if you don't stop shouting I'll torture you rather than just slitting your throat." Theron groaned from behind. His head was still hurting.

"Theron, you're alive. Thank the Maker." Alistair responded looking him in the eyes. His gaze caused Theron unease. The same earnestness was there, a true relief present at seeing Theron's well being.

_Makes no sense. Must be shock and possibly sees me as a way of helping him fight the blight. Fuck that._

"Now that you're here we can find other wardens, maybe find Duncan." Alistair began frantically.

"There are no survivors lad. I told you, your Teryn Loghain abandoned the forces at Ostagar. You two are the only grey wardens left in Ferelden. You are all alone with no one to rely on, but yourself," Asha'bellanar said her gaze on Alistair, but her presence, her void, on Theron. "You are easy prey."

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Should leave now. _"Heh, well then I guess I should just take my leave. Alistair rain check on the tea party, I'll try to find Duncan's body and add him to the list," Theron spoke quickly, not noticing the anger from Alistair at his joke, "Asha' thank you for the hospitality. I'll see you in another; oh let's just call it never. Alright, heh, well bye!"

"Duncan saved your life and you're making jokes! Worse yet you think you can just leave!" Alistair shouted, while Theron began slowly backing away hoping that the range of those white flames wasn't very far, "You can't just leave me alone, to deal with all of this." Alistair's anger had subsided quickly, his tone now pleading, broken.

Theron stared at him in surprise, his voice invading his thoughts. _Welcome to the fold brother. Theron, you're alive, thank the Maker. _Theron continued to stare at Alistair and Alistair thought that Theron had given in._ Heh, guilt doesn't work on me. Now that anger is subsided and threat gone, time to leave._

"Hah, your fellow warden here is merely jesting child no need to worry. It is how Theron copes with fear" Asha'bellanar began, stopping Theron's slow retreat, "You see your friend warden has never been apart from his clan, aside from the occasional wander in search of ingredients, until he joined the wardens. He has always been secure, safe, and now he finds himself alone amidst a blight and a civil war."

_Ingredients? How does she know all of this? _The snake was at his back once more ready to feed. Theron realized how powerless he was and knew the toy that he was, a plaything for ancient powers greater than himself

Alistair looked between the two and noticed that Theron did indeed look quite frightened. Perhaps he was being too hard on the mage. Humor did seem to be Theron's way of coping and that Alistair could understand. Flemeth drew him out of his thoughts once more.

"Besides Theron is smart enough to know that if he did leave now into the Kocari wilds without a guide and in the middle of a darkspawn hoard he would not make it out alive," Asha'bellanar spoke directly to Alistair, but Theron knew who was really being addressed, "There is no telling what manner of evil might get him. A rabbit cannot run far with a wolf at its back. Isn't that right, Theron?" Asha'bellanar turned her gaze towards the blood mage.

_I think I know exactly what manner of evil would get me. You've made your point witch._

"Is this true Theron? You're not the only one frightened you know. We're wardens that means we are in this together." Alistair tried to assure him.

"Well, I am certainly in danger of pissing myself right now." Theron managed to say.

The roar of laughter from the wizened abomination caused him to flinch. "See he jests! Surely you do not wet so easily?" Asha'bellanar snorted in laughter.

"What can I say? Being around such a lovely witch as yourself ends poorly for my pants, Asha." Theron allowed.

"Okay I get that you're worried, but must you flirt with her?" Alistair whispered in reply.

"Humor is my way of coping."

Alistair smiled for the first time since waking up, "So you'll stay then?"

"Of course, leaving was **never** an option. I see that now," Theron said still looking at the old witch, "But the question now is what will you do with us?"

"I?" Asha'bellanar responded with a small smile, "I will do nothing with you. All I want is for you two to do your duty. Someone must stop the blight. That is still the duty of the grey wardens is it not?"

"Of course it is, but what can the two of us do by ourselves? The rest of the wardens in Ferelden are dead and we have no way of contacting wardens in other lands." Alistair said.

"Now, now you are not so alone are you? Wardens certainly have allies, no?"

"You mean the treaties." Theron responded to the question.

"That's right with those treaties we can call upon the dwarves, the Dalish, even mages from the circle of magi." Alistair began hope returning, "And then there is Arl Eamon if we tell him of Loghain's treachery he will stand against him."

"Arl Eamon? Is he some sort of leader for you shemlen?"

"He's King Cailan's uncle no one is more loyal, if we appeal surely . . ."

"Loghain was loyal to the king." Theron pointed out.

"No, I know the Arl, he raised me. He is a good man he must help."

"Dwarves, elves, mages, and even an Arl it sounds like you have yourself an army." Asha'bellanar spoke slowly, "Defeat this Loghain reunite Ferelden under this Eamon and then you may have strength enough to stop the blight."

"I doubt it will be that easy." Theron groaned.

"Ha! And when is it ever?" Asha'bellanar conceded, "But before you go I do have one last gift for both of you."

"Gifts? Why would you help us?" Alistair asked in surprise.

"Yes, believe it or not I want the blight to end as much you do. Here take this it will grant you what you need most when it is your time to choose." Asha'bellanar handed over a small, white, metal crest to Alistair.

Emblazoned on it was a symbol of fire, a templars holy fire. Alistair looked at it in surprise, the old witch knew of his training. It was a token given to the head templars in the order, a sign of leadership, a reminder that even when the darkest of decisions must be made a holy light would guide the path.

"Where did you get this?" Alistair asked in wonder, only nodding at the unclear answer she gave in return.

Theron immediately tried to sense a hint of magic about the crest. _Cursed, no. No trace of mana. A ward perhaps? No, it really is just a piece of metal? _Theron still could not trust the metal crest despite the empty vessel it was.

"I have not tampered with it." Asha'bellanar said noticing Theron's calculating gaze, "It is only a reminder. It has meaning for someone who has the training of your friend."

_Damn how does she know what I'm thinking? She has yet to make her move. Tactical retreat would be best for now. _"Right we'll be going now." Theron motioned to Alistair to go.

"Wait now. Do you not want your gift as well Theron?" Asha'bellanar began. "She . . ."

"Ah, mother supper is nearly finished will we be dining with two guests or none?" Morrigan exited the hut.

"The warden's were just leaving girl and you will be going with them. Theron needs a gift after all."

"Oh, such a shame . . ." Morrigan began with a false tone, "Wait what?"

"You heard me girl. You are to help the wardens in their battle against the blight. Besides it is you who wished to enter the world of man is it not?"

"Yes, but, this is not how I wanted it."

"You either act now or spend your life wondering, my girl."

"I . . . suppose you are right. I did wish to see the world."

Theron stepped in his alarm had been set off. "So this is your move Asha'bellanar?"

"My move? My dear boy I was wondering when you would ask. You have not paid attention to the board." The old abomination laughed.

Theron looked at the game he had left behind the first time he came to the witch's hut. On Asha'bellanar's side of the board a pawn had been moved two spaces directly across from the one he had played, a move that halted both of their advances, a defensive move. Neither could attack and neither could run. Together they would stand until the game took another turn. _Why would she do that?_

"My move was saving you. The blight is a threat to all. You will end it," Asha'bellanar looked directly at him, "Has it not crossed your mind that we might be on the same side?"

Theron nodded in understanding. _Truce until the blight ends._ It was a realization that would have heartened most, but not Theron. It was still the witch in control; a truce entirely on her terms. He was a slave. He was a tool she would use and then throw away, but it bought him time to prepare. _I will make you regret this. _"Of course, maybe the Keeper was wrong."

"Now that's clever lad."

* * *

><p>Theron, Alistair, and Morrigan been walking for sometime, the wilds now past them, towards Lothering a small town Morrigan had suggested visiting to restock. They passed through an unmarked graveyard. Broken head stones and memorials to the deceased were the group's only scenery. It was quiet; a fight over cooking of all things had taken place. Apparently Morrigan did not enjoy the not so subtle request from Alistair. Not that Theron minded one bit silence gave him time to plot his next move.<p>

Theron had decided that Morrigan was not sent along to kill them. The one truth Asha'bellanar had spoken was her desire to end the blight. The only conclusion left to Theron was either information gathering or general support against the blight. Or both. _Although, the surprise Morrigan had when she was told was genuine. Her pulse at the time indicated that much. Still best approach is to keep her close. Watch her while she watches me. A dangerous game._

"You know all I meant was that my cooking would probably kill us. It would be safer if someone, possibly you, took over that duty" Alistair tried once more to explain to Morrigan he had meant no offense.

"You do know I have knowledge of fifteen different poisons that grow in the wilds and I am well supplied." Morrigan taunted.

"Probably still safer than Alistair at the pot." Theron joked.

"I will not cook for you."

Theron sighed, "Doesn't matter, I'll cook. I like cooking."

"T'would not surprise me to learn that about an elf." Morrigan said in disdain.

"Heh, racism from a shemlen? How original." Theron smiled back as Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"Not racist if it's true." Alistair joined in.

"Silence templar fool. Prejudice is a quality in your kind not mine." Morrigan spat.

"Yes Alistair how long until you smite me? Or make me a slave I wonder? Perhaps we should just get a big ox or something it would be safer and serve the same purpose as you." Theron responded laughing in turn.

"The ox would prove far more useful I assure you, warden." Morrigan added.

Theron smirked when Alistair backed away muttering something about evil blood mages and stupid witches. He needed to gather information and he couldn't do that if Alistair kept angering the young witch.

"Morrigan I actually have been meaning to ask what kind of skills do you have other than cooking of course. Combat wise to be specific."

"I can summon fire."

"Oh a mage who can summon fire that is entirely unhelpful. Everyone can do that" Theron replied exhausted with her. _Although it is a skill I don't have, I suppose._

"Why would I give such information freely? I know the cunning that lies in your mind."

"Heh, oh come on your mother sent you with us. She wouldn't send you away with some who would kill you?"

"You do not know my mother well then."

"Look I just," Theron stopped at the sight of a mass of fur running towards the group. "Is that a dog?"

Alistair felt their presence before he saw them, the buzzing invading his mind. Theron seemed to notice as well if the cutting of his wrist wasn't just for fun. Morrigan drew her staff as well when she realized the danger. Darkspawn were chasing after the dog towards them, seven of them all of the large gold-plated variety. The dog turned apparently intent on joining the fight and charged at four towards the right.

"Alistair help the dog hold off those four," Theron commanded. _Good now we need to quickly take out those three or we'll all be overwhelmed. _Theron stopped the three long enough with his blood to cast an oil spell. "Morrigan summon your flames now," Theron blinked once when nothing happened, "Morrigan?"

The witch was no longer by his side. The bestial call drew Theron's attention. He did not expect to see the great bear that charged the three darkspawn. _She's a shapeshifter. That's quite the skill. Still that's not part of the plan._

Morrigan in her bear form overcame one of the three darkspawn. She tackled into it forcing it the ground and began tearing through its armor to get to its flesh. That left the other two to Theron a position he was unprepared for, a position unplanned_. _"Damn you Morrigan."

Theron stalled the movement of one of the enemies by enthralling it, but lost his hold when the second swung its axe at him. He dodged in time tripping the formally enthralled darkspawn and blasting the second back with a spirit bolt. The confusion gave him time to back away in the direction the darkspawn had charged him, but his enemies advanced quickly. There was no time to enthrall them not when they were mentally aware of his enthralling attempts. The darkspawn advanced too quickly and Theron was forced to continue backwards.

Alistair and the dog were still engaged with three of the darkspawn and Morrigan was still playing with her catch Theron noted. _Need to buy more time. I should . . . _Theron slipped in the oil spell he had cast. "Shit," Theron cursed when he saw the two tainted creatures close on him, "Morrigan help now!"

The witch did not hear or simply chose to ignore. There was only one choice left to him. He cast his blood thrall spell on the only unsuspecting being present. He cast it on Morrigan successfully, but immediately felt her attempt to break it. With all the will power he had he sent Morrigan in bear form crashing against the two darkspawn throwing them far away. He felt his hold break immediately afterwards.

Morrigan killed one quickly, while the dog joined in finishing the last. Alistair helped Theron to his feet. Morrigan now finished returned to her normal form her golden eyes alight with anger. Her form emanating mana so strong it caused even Alistair to take notice. She stalked towards Theron.

_Oh shit. _"Look Morrigan I only di gurK."

She lifted his form from the ground with one hand firmly around his neck. Her strength augmented; it was strength roughly equivalent to a wild bear Theron noted idly as his vision clouded with stars born from suffocation.

Alistair moved to help, but with one arm, augmented with animal strength, Morrigan batted him away his armor crashing with deafening sound against the ground.

"See here I hold your life in my hands. You only live because my mother has some small control over my actions. You do not have the same power." Morrigan sneered her voice growling in a way no normal human's could, "I am your superior. If you ever try that again I will snap your neck. What say you?"

"Mff.. gurk . Cheo"

"What was that elf?" Morrigan brought him closer to her face lessening her grip ever so slightly.

"I understand. Please stop chokgurk," Theron pleaded out feebly his voice altered by the hand around his throat, "The dog is gonna attack you."

Morrigan dropped Theron and dodged the charging Mabari. Theron somewhere in the shroud of black that blanketed his eyes noted the action. _Dodged rather than blocked. Possible time limit on strength augmentation._

Alistair was back on his feet and along with the mabari repositioned towards Morrigan. She looked unconcerned as they readied their combined attack.

"Stop!" Theron yelled, "I deserved that."

The mabari growled as Alistair asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, down both of you. We should just . . . set up camp, it has been a long day."

Morrigan left to set up a tent far away from them.

"She nearly suffocated you with one hand you realize."

"Yeah it was kind of arousing. I'm used to being gagged, but never choked. Real turn on I tell ya."

"By the maker I hope you are using humor as a coping mechanism right now."

"Heh, yeah coping mechanism," Theron turned his gaze towards the mabari that now sat expectantly looking up at him.

"Isn't that the mabari Daveth helped in Ostagar?" Alistair pondered out loud.

"I think it is. Why is it here? Well whatever I'm going to set something up. I need to . . . plan." Theron made to move and noticed the mabari follow.

"Looks like you've been imprinted. Lucky you!" Alistair laughed hysterically, "That mabari is going to be taking pisses with you now."

"Oh for the love of . . . this is the last thing I need."

"Hey look at it this way. She'll buy you time if Morrigan comes your way again." Alistair said still amused.

"That . . . might actually be useful." Theron conceded.

"Well, what are you going to name her?"

"Dory."

"..."

"Daveth plus Jory? Dory!" Theron explained.

"They did die you know; that's horrible."

"I think it's a nice way to honor them. Plus more people at the tea party!"

"You're a bad person."

* * *

><p>Theron had hurt himself once when he was younger, well technically he had hurt himself a countless number of times. That was simply the price of power, of blood, but those occasions were always planned, it was intentional, it was on his terms and that made the pain bearable. But once, just once, he had caused himself unintentional pain.<p>

He had made a mistake. He had tried to make a friend.

She was cute with her short hair and scattered pigtails. She had large eyes that were the prettiest shade of green. She smiled, a lot! And most importantly she was a mage like him, well not exactly like him. She was in fact a much better mage than him. She didn't cry the first time she cast a spell. But the Keeper didn't cut her the way she cut Theron.

Still they had something in common, something they shared, a connection that he would never have with any of his other peers. And maybe, when they were friends, she could teach him to be just as good of a mage as she was.

Her name was Merrill.

Theron decided he wanted to be friends with Merrill. So one day when he noticed that Merrill had wandered too far from camp, in an attempt to pick flowers, he followed. After some time Theron made his presence known. Their eyes met a happy green and a warm, but unsure blue. At first Merrill had looked surprised and Theron had grown worried, but then she smiled.

She asked him if he wanted to help her pick flowers. Soon they were laughing and playing games that only children in their innocence are capable of enjoying. Merrill asked Theron if he wanted to be friends. Theron had said yes.

And then, after some time, they met him. He was a shemlen, but he spoke so kindly that any preconceived prejudice they held, if young children were even possible of holding such a thing, disappeared. The shemlen asked them who they were and what they were doing. Merrill had answered that she was playing with her new best friend. Theron had blushed.

The shemlen then asked if he could be their friend too. The elves said yes.

The man smiled, it was a weird smile, but the children had grown to associate a smile with good intentions so they smiled back. The shemlen asked if they wanted to go to his camp and play a really fun game and, of course, they excitedly nodded their heads in agreement.

The shemlen had lied. His game had not been fun.

Theron was left on the ground conscious and bleeding, dried tears and blood on his face. The taste of iron was on his tongue. There was a lot of blood. There were also thirty bones that made up the eleven arm. Three, called the Humerus, radius, and ulna made up the actual arm. The last twenty-seven made up the hand. Thirteen were in the wrist. They were called carpals and metacarpals. And finally the phalanges, your fingers, were built from the remaining fourteen, three for each of the fingers and two for the thumb.

Theron, somewhere in the back of his mind, had found the information interesting. Theron had learned. Theron liked learning.

Theron knew all of this because the man had taught him, had shown him. Theron tried his best not to stare at his mutilated arm.

Distraction came in the form of Merrill. Theron's tears had stopped around one of the carpals, Capitate, but Merrill had cried throughout the entire game, unable to escape from her bondage. Their eyes met a terrified green and a cold blue. Even with tears falling from her eyes, Theron had thought they were pretty.

Merrill had not had a chance to play yet, but their new friend had assured her that she was next and went to clean his 'toys' as he referred to them. He had said something about sterilizing and not wanting her to get an infection, as she would have to live a little longer than Theron.

Theron closed his eyes weariness overcoming his body. He realized he was dying.

That was when Merrill started screaming at him telling him that she didn't want him to die and above all not to leave her alone. She was begging him to stay, tears falling for her new friend.

Theron smiled it was nice to have someone who cared. He finally decided that he agreed with her. He did not want himself to die either.

That was when it had first awoken in him, the instinct to survive. He wanted to live. There was meaning in that revelation, meaning in life, life in survival, survival in power. And power? Power resides in the blood. The Keeper had taught him that much. Theron had a lot of blood to offer.

And the offering was accepted. The spell had demanded a medium, a conduit through which a deal could be signed, a blood sacrifice. A young green-eyed elven girl had the misfortune of being the closest available sentient creature, the misfortune of being the friend of a blood mage.

Merrill hovered in the air her body convulsing along with the pulse of her heart. The blood rained down. She had begged for him to stop. A feeble croak, a mockery of vocal ability. A piercing pain enveloped her body. The liquid that provided life was drilling its way out of her.

His eyes shot open a mad red. He knew not what he was doing or how, but it felt good. His destroyed arm mending itself, nerves reawakening, muscle reattaching, skin reforming, feeling returning once more. It tickled and Theron laughed. A childish music, inconsistent with the nature of the mana, of the ritual he had completed. A song of innocence and blood filled the forest.

It was a feeling unlike any other. It was intoxicating, blissful, and fun. It needed to be shared perhaps he could show Merrill? The desire for companionship overriding the selfish impulse for pleasure; the innocence of a child overcame the malevolence of power. Theron heard her choking, saw her tears, and knew regret.

His euphoria was broken. Whatever he had done Merrill had not liked it. The spell ended and Merrill fell to the ground unconscious. Theron had rushed over to help her, but found he could not awaken her. Underneath the blood and dirt she looked pale.

The shemlen had witnessed such power with terror. He had played with a mage, a mage that at any moment during their game could have transformed into an abomination. The shemlen ran or he would have had he not been engulfed by the very ground on which he stood. His head was the only part of him protruding from its embrace. He looked up to meet a very angry elf. Her name was Marethari.

Theron listened as the Keeper spoke to his shemlen friend. Marethari had addressed the shemlen calmly informing him that if he wanted to play games with elves it was only common decency on the elves part to allow him to have the next turn. He was a guest in Marethari's forest after all. She had said he was a friend, it was the only decent thing to do.

Theron had frowned at that in his childish mind. After all that had happened the shemlen was still a friend?

As the trees themselves pulled him deep into the forest, Marethari promised she would be there to play with in him in just a bit. Theron had never seen the Keeper so angry.

Marethari turned to her charges and the anger that burned in her old form vanished replaced by sorrow and tears that threatened to fall, but her face showed only a smile. Marethari healed Merrill and when Theron asked if Merrill would be alright the Keeper nodded her head, still smiling, trying to comfort him. The Keeper always smiled.

And then Theron had asked something unexpected. He wanted to know if he could watch when the Keeper played with the shemlen. He told the Keeper that maybe he would learn something again and it would be okay because it wasn't his turn to play. Theron liked learning.

Marethari's eyes widened and Theron had thought for just a second that he had said something wrong. Marethari smiled again and suggested that maybe he should stay with Merrill and protect her until the hunters arrived to take them back to their camp, but that ultimately it was his choice to make.

Theron liked learning, but he liked Merrill too. Theron beamed up at the Keeper declaring that he would do anything to protect his new best friend. The Keeper took her leave telling him to stay in the camp and wait for the hunters.

Theron had taken his guard duties quite seriously. He found Merrill the cleanest pillows from the camp and had propped her head as gently as he could.

He also tried to find flowers for Merrill because their shemlen friend had stepped on the ones they had picked. That was the first thing the man had done to make Merrill cry. The shemlen might have been a friend and maybe friends made each other cry? Still Theron decided he would rather see Merrill smile so he looked around for flowers.

He found only a rose, a type he didn't really like. Roses were tricky, pretty, but dangerous with their thorns. But it was the best available. She was his friend and she deserved nothing less than the best in his mind.

Then he got a cloth and some water and went about cleaning the dried blood. He frowned remembering that it was him that caused this. Her pain his doing.

Merrill would understand surely. He hadn't meant to do it. He didn't even really know what he had done in the first place. It was an accident and it had saved his life. She had saved his life. He didn't want to hurt her; didn't want to make her cry like their shemlen friend. Although that is what a friend seemed to do.

And if they were friends; surely she would understand . . . he hoped. He brushed the wet cloth against her cheek once more.

Her eyes fluttered open meeting his and she screamed at him. Those green gems he found so pretty now looked so frantic that it made him uneasy. Blood shot eyes, dark red veins that overpowered those emeralds and tears that dulled life. Those eyes, they didn't look so pretty anymore.

She spoke incoherent ramblings about a monster who wanted blood. She yelled at him to get away from her and, when he didn't move because of his shock at her response, she thrashed terrified of him.

Theron had pleaded with her to calm down, telling her that it would be okay, asking her to trust him. He handed the rose he had picked to her, hoping to bring back her smile. Her frantic movements caused the thorns of the rose to draw blood from her pale skin. Theron moved once more to clean her cut; desperately trying to save the one thing he wanted most of all, a friend. Theron had almost cried.

Merrill screamed at him, telling him that he wasn't a friend. He was the monster. Pulling herself away finally, yelling that he couldn't have her blood, she trampled over the rose he had picked. That was when Theron did cry.

Merril passed out once more.

Those words sealed his fate, casting a spell that would not be undone. The true blow had been dealt.

Theron stared down at her. Her words hurt. In fact they hurt a great deal more than any game the shemlen had played with him. A shattered arm was nothing in comparison to the broken heart of a child.

But the tears stopped because it was his fault. He was the one who followed her into the forest. He had agreed to go with his shemlen friend. He had caused himself this pain. He was the one who had wanted a friend. He had caused all of this.

Theron decided from that point on that he would never hurt himself in ignorance again. He wanted to feel good like when he had healed his arm. Injury was only acceptable if it was exchanged for pleasure . . . or power.

Theron realized he had made a mistake. He had tried to make a friend.

Something inside Theron broke.

Merrill was right they weren't friends and even if they were, even if the Keeper had been right in calling the shemlen a friend, friendship was masochistic by nature.

Theron decided that he would create his own friendship. A mage can create anything as long as their will was sufficient.

A friend was supposed to be a good thing, but what Theron and Merrill had was not good. They hurt each other so therefore they could not be friends or according to the Keeper they were friends because of the pain? If so friends were a bad thing.

Friendship should be determined by what two people could do for each other. A type of exchange because mutual benefit was good, it was safe. No one could get hurt in an equal trade.

Theron's smile had looked a little sickly when he realized there was one person who fit this description. The Keeper. She offered him power and he offered her obedience. Theron wouldn't have to find a new person for his new brand of friendship. Theron had a friend all along.

Theron left to find the Keeper. He suddenly desired nothing more than to watch his friend play with the shemlen. And when the Keeper saw Theron's form coming into view she let him watch. The Keeper had frowned at Theron's choice. Theron had smiled. The shemlen just screamed.

* * *

><p>Theron was going to do something he had not done in a very long time. It was a necessary arrangement if he wanted to survive.<p>

He was quite pale at the idea and because he had used a lot of blood to make sure this would work. But it had to be done. The threat needed to be dealt with.

She was tall, taller than him in fact, but she was a human so it was only logical that she was a little taller than him. Her eyes were gold, her hair dark and set in regal fashion and yet she retained the essence of the wilds she had been raised in. Theron also accepted that she was beautiful, but that mattered little because beauty had little value. And most importantly she was powerful, quite a bit more powerful than him, but that was okay because he had a plan.

Her name was Morrigan and she did not smile.

"You call me here and think this is a sufficient greeting? Surely you do not believe that I cannot feel the mana at work here?" Her golden eyes flashed dangerously. She knew the trap he had set in this graveyard filled with fallen darkspawn. The graveyard they had found that mangy beast in. "If this is your idea of a trap, t'is a poor one indeed. A few skeletons will not best me, Warden."

"Heh . . . yes, well it's a little more than a few skeletons. Blood mage's have access to a larger supply of mana than the regular mage, you see." Theron smiled, he would have to act fast or this would end poorly, "I have spent the greater portion of the day forcing every single skeleton here under my service. They number somewhere between ten and twenty." _Actual amount is twenty-three._

White hands, skulls, and other remnants of the deceased began to emerge from the ground. Faux life filled the landscape, a sea of undead washing over the grounds.

Morrigan's eyes widened a fraction at the implication of how much blood had been spilled and the danger she might be in. She moved to grab her staff.

"Wait!" Theron shrieked, the sound had come out rather effeminately, "Mythal's shit! Just calm down I don't want to die! I just want to be friends!"

"T'is a funny way of forming a friendship." She hissed dissuaded only for the moment.

"Look, just listen." Theron said quickly before she decided to attack, "We both know I can't best you. The skeletons are just here in case I need to run away . . . or something."

"And you believe this would delay me long enough so that you could attempt a successful retreat?"

"Well, I'm not really sure . . . Look it was this or Alistair. The choice was obvious." _However, Alistair is not far from here. Will run his direction if she attacks._

The faintest of smiles graced the witches face at the implied insult towards the templar. Theron decided it was a good sign.

"I want to be friends," Theron repeated now that Morrigan seemed willing to listen. "Let's set up an exchange. All I ask is that you will do as I suggest when we are in battle. Today's little mishap with the mabari, while impressive, was unexpected. I want us to be effective in battle. And in return I will fulfill whatever terms, within reason of course, you come up with."

"You view friendship as a barter? T'would seem you have an unusual idea of friendship as well as an unorthodox method in acquiring it."

"And so what if it is! It is still far superior to what everyone else seems to want to engage in." Theron grew angry, it seemed everyone knew what a friend was except him. It seemed everyone wanted to hurt each, and more importantly themselves, for no good reason. "Foolish people who revel in self-sacrificing emotions that causes pain to themselves and others. It is a weakness that must be ground out if one wishes to survive. The current concept of a friend is vile and unworthy of my time!"

The pallor of his face strengthened the dark circles that surrounded his blue eyes. Demons born of a child's blood haunted his words. There was madness in his look. One that demanded release, one that would have drawn the concern of any normal being, but the witch was far from normal.

Despite all that had happened the warden's words earned him some respect in Morrigan's eyes. It was a position she could thoroughly relate to and most importantly the blood mage was someone she could control. And what she could control, she could use.

"That is a sensible attitude indeed, Warden."

"You just don't get . . . wait. What?"

"I claimed you to be of a sensible disposition. Friendship. Such attachment is foolish. I am in agreement, such value should be determined by what two people can offer each other." Morrigan replied all immediate hostility vanishing. It would appear that this blood mage understood the true value of power.

"Heh. . . oh, well does that mean you agree to my proposition?"

The sudden change in demeanor was a shift in emotion that could only come from a child . . . or a psychopath. It caused Morrigan to wonder which she was dealing with. Still the shapeshifter could deal with either. It was her turn to enter the game.

"I did not say that." Morrigan smiled darkly and Theron thought he saw a flash of her mother, "What is it that you could possibly offer one such as I?"

"Well, that's why we're here isn't it. Surely there must be something you want that I can offer."

They stared at each other and silence filled the space they occupied. Theron grew uneasy and a bit dizzy. He had lost quite a bit of blood.

"Yes, indeed there is." Morrigan finally spoke. Her words came so surely that Theron began to wonder if perhaps she had manipulated him to this point and not the other way around. "You are a blood mage of considerable skill. Yes, I see that much. As such you have access to demons and their trades for power. Of course I am more than capable of doing such things myself, but t'is beneath me to practice such an art."

"So you're saying you want me to engage in trade with demons on your behalf?" Theron asked slowly. Demons were a tricky thing, but Theron had long ago learned how to deal with demons. Still it was a dangerous practice depending on what the mage asked for. "What exactly do you want from a demon?"

"Knowledge, glimpses into what might come, future gazing to be exact. We will both meet with the demon. I will receive the vision and you will offer the demon payment on my behalf. Then we shall both leave only to convene again at a later time, at my discretion, where we will repeat the process."

Theron felt relief. Despite what most would believe capturing a glimpse of the future was a relatively cheap product that demons offered. It was cheap because it had little to no certain value. The future had not happened yet. All a gazer would see is a possibility, one in an almost infinite number of threads that could be. Theron could do this, but he wanted to know why Morrigan would desire such ability. _She is too powerful not to know future gazing has almost no practical use._

"You do realize the future you do see will have an almost infinitely small chance of happening? If you are even able to understand said vision in the first place?" Theron inquired. _What do you really want witch?_

"I know the art's limitation, Warden," Morrigan scoffed, "My reasons are my own. Take the deal or leave it. It matters not."

Theron made his decision quickly. He would decipher her motive later, when he wasn't on the verge of collapse.

"Deal!" Theron spoke. "Friends?"

Morrigan stared at the proffered hand with a mild annoyance and finally noticed how pale the elf was. "T'would seem that is what I have agreed to."

Theron smiled widely and with just a little falsity, "Good, seeing as we're friends now could you make sure my body makes it back to camp? You see I'm about to pass out."

A single eyebrow raised as the skeletons crumbled away into dust and Theron began to sway. Morrigan did not catch him when he finally fell. She was amused, however, when she realized that the whole spectacle had only been for show, a display of power to impress perhaps? But then why reveal that it was all just an act? She was unsure, but she had gotten what she wanted in any case.

Morrigan made her way to the camp. She would not carry Theron, but she would inform the foolish Templar of Theron's condition. They were friends now after all and it was in fact the very least she could do.

* * *

><p>Theron woke in his tent and smiled. <em>Success . . . I think?<em>


	4. The Monsters We Make

Dragon Age Origins: The Lonely Path

Chapter 4: The Monsters We Make

Marethari was not smiling it was a rare occurrence. The clan leader's old face was loved for its patient and indulgent smile, but today the winds were discontent. They whispered to her sad memories. Memories of when she had found Theron and Merrill in the woods with that shemlen so long ago.

It was harsh lesson the Keeper learned that day. A lesson of what happens when one stops listening. It should have never happened. Marethari had made a mistake. Marethari should have never let Theron watch as she administered justice or perhaps it was merely vengeance she enacted upon the shemlen. She should have never allowed him to cut the man with his own hands.

It should have never happened.

But Marethari had seen the way the child had broken. There was no other choice. She had to shape him into what he now was; the winds told her as much. She had to keep her promise to the boy's father. Theron had a role to fulfill, a ritual to complete. At least that was what she told herself.

Why were the winds bringing these memories now of all times? She continued to listen and the answers became clear. Marethari's frown deepened, it was time to leave Ferelden.

"Keeper, you sent for me?" Ashalle asked stepping into view from the great oaken wonders of the forest.

"Yes, Lethallan," Marethari turned to greet her a smile on her face once more, "It's time we moved on from this place. I want you to inform Hahren Paivel, Master Ilen, and Maren to make the necessary preparations. The clan will head for the Free Marches in three days. Will you do this for me?"

"Of course Keeper, but why me?" Ashalle asked confused.

"Merrill and I will be leaving for Zathrian's clan tonight. We will rejoin you as soon as our business is concluded."

"Is that safe, to travel without the Keeper or the First during a blight? It seems risky with all due respect Keeper. Can't Merrill stay at least? What if we make it past your sphere?" Ashalle questioned with some concern. Normally it would be unthinkable to even hint at questioning a Keeper's judgement once it had been made, but Ashalle had known Marethari for a long time. They were Lethallan and that allowed some leniency.

Marethari smiled not at all concerned by Ashalle's questions. "Merrill must come it is important that she begins to form a strong alliance with Zathrian's clan. There will be great changes soon," Marethari continued hoping to assure Ashalle, "We will not be gone long and I have repositioned my sphere. We should be back right as you are leaving the forest. The clan should not be outside of my reach."

Ashalle nodded, but did not leave.

"Is there something else?"

"Can you still hear him?" Ashalle asked there was hope in her eyes, a hope that Marethari loathed to crush.

"No, Theron is beyond my influence now and that is in the clan's best interest."

"You fear what the boy he might do to the clan?"

Marethari looked once more at Ashalle. The poor woman could not see what Theron truly was, what he had become. Ashalle saw only the child she helped raise. Only the act Theron had put on.

"Ma Theron harel," Marethari said firmly, knowing it would hurt Ashalle to hear those words, but there was no pain in Ashalle's gaze, only certainty and even a little defiance. Marethari found it a curious thing to witness. Motherly affection truly had the ability to cloud ones eyes from the truth. Marethari had no such delusions and knew it was better that way. Ashalle's faith made her a good mother figure, but Marethari's clarity made her the Keeper.

"I do not fear him. There is more to him than he lets people see. And he's just as skilled as his father once was." Ashalle argued firmly.

"It is not his skill that is in question. He has his father's talent and his mother's mind as well as her tongue," Marethari did smile genuinely when she said that, "But none of their kindness, none of their loyalty. He holds no love for this clan, no loyalty to its people, no real affection, not even for you, Lethallan."

"I know," Ashalle conceded slowly and to Marethari's great surprise, "But we made him that way. He will never love us, but there is still a light in his heart and he is too strong to let it go out whether he realizes it or not. I do not fear him as you do."

"Oooh that is so excellent Ashalle!" A voice from the trees called out to both of the elder women's surprise, "I always knew Theron was a big softie on the inside. He likes daisies; I remember he helped me pick them once. Anyone who likes daisies can't be bad. I'm not scared of him either!"

The Keeper stared up at Merrill their smiles matching. Both smiles were carefree, but one smile covered alarm. Marethari held back suspicion with a smile. She had not sensed Merrill's presence at first. It was only when she had stopped listening to the winds that she sensed her young First's presence.

Merrill had been acting strangely ever since returning from the cave. Something had happened that not even Marethari could comprehend. It was troubling. It was not part of her plans. It was not part of the way. It was a turn no one could have possibly foreseen and that upset Marethari. Merrill had a role to play as well. Merrill was to be the next Keeper that was the way and anything that threatened the way must be dealt with. If a monster had been made it would be slain. Except Marethari did not know if Merrill's new persona was a threat, a monster to deal with.

"Are you spying on us Merrill?" the Keeper asked lightly, but the disapproval was clear.

"Oh, no I'm just listening. That's what a Keeper does right? Call it practice!"

Marethari's eyes narrowed in annoyance. This new Merrill had gained the confidence the old one lacked, but lost the obedience in return.

"That's a very intimidating glare Keeper! Is that another skill a keeper needs? Can you teach me how to do that too?"

The tree Merrill was residing in shook suddenly sending the young elf crashing to the ground. "I said something wrong again didn't I?" Merrill groaned looking up at her elders from the ground.

* * *

><p>The band of shemlen in front of Theron was asking for something or rather they were threatening him. Something about a highway tax? Theron wasn't really paying attention. He had been planning. It had become clear to him that he would have to help gather this army against the blight. He couldn't escape the Keeper without great effort and he most definitely could not escape Asha'bellanar. And so here he was gathering an army for a war he had no interest in. At least that is what he would do until he gained the power necessary to hide himself from those infinitely his greater. So he would wait and gather power. <em>Keeper's will be damned.<em> Theron was angry.

The shemlen leading this would be group of bandits gave Theron a harsh shove. Theron continued to ignore him. _Gather the army, while gathering power. My ritual . . . but the Keeper knows about that as well. What to do? _His situation was hopeless as of now and he knew it. Helplessness often results in one of two responses from animals. They either cower, accepting their fate, or they lash out in violence. _I need to hurt something. See someone break. I want control._

"Highway men, no doubt preying on the refugee's seeking shelter in Lothering," Alistair whispered, "Perhaps we can settle this diplomatically."

"They are fools to quarrel with us. I say teach them a lesson of the permanent variety." Morrigan added her thoughts, annoyed with the lustful eyes she was attracting from the bandits.

_Diplomacy or death? I'm not in a particularly diplomatic mood, but death so close to the village might cause a scene. Diplomacy it is then._ The leader of the bandits, tired of his would be victim's indifference, drew his blade and placed its edge to Theron's cheek. He drew the blade slowly against Theron's face opening the flesh spilling life and power.

"Your money I won't ask again," The highwayman warned, "You understand **Knife-ears**?"

_Fine you die then._ Normally racial slurs had little effect on the blood mage, but he had been through a very bad few days. Using the power the shemlen had so kindly activated for him, Theron halted the bandit's movements, drew his blade and quickly opened his throat. Theron allowed his victim to fall to the ground. His eyes stayed on the remaining bandits, while his free thumb traced the cut on his cheek wiping away the blood and closing the wound with a healing spell. _Four more, two archers and two swordsmen._

The shemlen group was obviously untrained. They were nothing more than bullies. Theron despite his lack of a moral center had always hated bullies. Such men were a mockery of power and that was what upset him. Luckily they were easy to deal with. All you had to do was send something bigger than them their way. _I suppose now is as good a time as any to test my new friendship with Morrigan._

"Say Morrigan you said they had a lesson to learn? Care to be their instructor? We have a deal, no?" Theron asked smiling and hoping it didn't sound too much like a command.

"Tis, true. However, your exact wording specified combat. As far as I am able to see there is no combat. None of the remaining bandits have drawn their weapons." Morrigan said looking at her nails unconcerned.

"They are still in shock at seeing their leader dead. The fat one on the left will draw his blade soon." Theron responded hiding his annoyance even as the fat bandit did as he had predicted. _Come on witch we have a deal._

"I suppose that will do, Warden. Do you have any specific requests or shall I improvise?" Morrigan relented to Theron's surprise.

"Bear please." Theron smiled as Morrigan sent her beastly form against the two swordsmen in the bandit group. "Dory keep the archers off of Morrigan." The mabari barked once and complied.

"Err, anything I should do Theron?" Alistair asked.

"Enjoy the music with me." Theron answered closing his eyes and smiling as the screams began. The bandit's sounds of terror as the monsters tore them apart made Theron giddy. The bandits were finished quickly. Theron had been right they were easy prey and yet he was still not satisfied. He was still on edge. He was still helpless and without control.

"Right creepy," Alistair frowned not partaking in the same euphoria as Theron, "How did you get Morrigan to be so compliant?"

"Heh well when you are someone as talented and powerful as . . . wah!" Theron screamed in effeminate fashion as Morrigan in bear form swiped at him, drawing blood, knocking him to the ground. Theron watched as Morrigan returned to her human form her golden eyes flashing and her smile cruel. Her message was clear. Theron had no control over her. She was merely fulfilling her part of the bargain.

"You have my apology, warden. T'would seem my claws slipped," Morrigan taunted, "What is it you were saying?"

"Heh, I was going to say when you are as talented and powerful as Morrigan," Theron continued while working on the flesh wound Morrigan had dealt him, "You sometimes show pity on lesser beings like myself. Isn't she just wonderful, Alistair?"

"Tis true," Morrigan began dangerously, the mana around her flaring "My pity is what keeps you alive, dear warden. Say thank you Morrigan."

_Fuck you Morrigan. _"Thank you Morrigan." Theron felt his teeth itch even as he said it. The witch continued her way into Lothering leaving behind the carnage of the battle.

Alistair looked down at Theron amused for the first time in days. "That went well."

Theron felt the need to break something or rather someone.

* * *

><p>The false civility with which the Keeper Zathrian greeted them was not lost on Marethari. It was, however, completely lost on Merrill, who had greeted Zathrian by asking, rather seriously, if male pattern baldness was a contagious disease. The prospect seemed to truly frighten the young First even though she herself had rather short hair.<p>

The question had caused Zathrian to sputter, unsure of how to respond. It had caused Lanaya, Zathrian's First, to giggle softly. Merrill decided she liked the blonde elf with the pretty, but rather plain face. That decision caused Merrill to smile at Lanaya. And Marethari for her part merely sighed. It had been a very **long** trip with Merrill accompanying her.

"Even if it is contagious I doubt you have much worry about, Lethallan," Lanaya said to her fellow First.

"Oh? What do you mean?" Merrill asked, her head tilted and a slight frown on her face.

Lanaya thought she looked a little like a kitten that had seen something odd, she found the expression cute. "If male pattern baldness is contagious," Lanaya began laughing softly at the absurdity of having to explain such a thing, "You still have little to worry about seeing as how you are not male."

"Oh!" Merrill gasped, quite relieved now, "You're so smart Lanaya! Why didn't I think of that? You must be an expert on infectious disease."

Keeper Marethari was far too distinguished and refined to do such a thing as placing her face to her palm, but Merrill was stressing even her limits.

"As stimulating as this conversation is," Zathrian spoke finally regaining his composure, "To what pleasure do we owe the presence of you and your First, Keeper Marethari? I must admit it is a surprise to see you here."

"A surprise, Zathrian?" Marethari was smiling too kindly, "I sent word with the winds. Is there some reason you could not be listening?"

Zathrian's cold glare met the Keeper's knowing smile and everyone present felt the tension. Except for Merrill who had begun humming and wondering if Lanaya could teach her more about medicine. Lanaya for her part could feel the battle of wills take place between the two Keepers and it confused her greatly. Clan Sabrae had always been on good terms with her clan as far as she could remember and both Keeper Marethari and Merrill seemed without malevolence, especially Merrill. Lanaya could not even imagine her fellow First causing them harm and yet every signal Zathrian was sending indicated alarm.

Zathrian began to laugh freely to which Marethari only continued to smile. "Of course you did, but I have been busy my old friend," Zathrian spoke first, "We will hold a banquet for your coming. It has been too long. Perhaps our apprentices would like to make the arrangements, while you and I talk?"

"That would be appropriate," Marethari said, "Merrill follow Lanaya's lead it is **her** clan after all. Oh and try to enjoy yourselves. It is not often that we get to enjoy the companionship of a sister clan."

Both of the young girls smiled up at her and made their way to the main camp, Lanaya leading a now skipping Merrill with great amusement. Watching them go made Marethari hope that they would become good friends. It made her hope that the two children they had raised would enjoy a future very different from that of the ones who had raised them. It was a future that Marethari would fight for. Marethari would do anything to make it happen even if it meant the ruin of a very old friend. Her smile dropped. Her green eyes now somber turned to meet Zathrian once more.

"Your first has a kind soul," Marethari complimented with no difficulty, "Despite being taught by one who holds such darkness in his heart. I'm not sure whether it is a testament to your abilities as a teacher or simply to the girl herself."

Zathrian snorted in response, "Yes and what of yours, hmm? Is there even a brain in that one?"

Marethari's smile returned once more, but it was cruel and possessive. Merrill was an idiot, but she was her idiot. The leaves of the trees began to rustle as a warning. "Maybe so and yet she would have never made the same mistake as you. She would not turn her back on our people's magic. She would never give up the soul of our people for hatred."

"The soul of our people!" Zathrian barked, "I am the soul of our people! Look at you! Nearly two centuries you have walked this earth. They say you are the first step to regaining the old immortality of our people; you who have mastered more of the old magic than any other Dalish currently in existence. But look at you; withered and grey. You are nothing more than a remnant of the beauty that you once were."

"I am no immortal I admit that freely," Marethari stared unafraid of the madness in Zathrian's eyes for the dead had no power over the living, "But surely you do not believe that you . . ."

"And what if I do?" Zathrian smiled as if he had knowledge of a secret no one else knew. He almost looked proud of what he was. Marethari fought the urge to gag. "I have not aged a day since I took my vengeance. Who are you to say this is not the future of the Dalish. Imagine it! Our people ageless, our power restored. Imagine our people just like me! Future of the Dalish? I am the Dalish!"

Marethari had heard enough. The wind roared and the roots of the ancient Brecilian trees erupted from the ground binding Zathrian's form. A single strong vine wrapped itself around the bald elf's throat stopping his mad rant. Zathrian struggled against his bonds in vain.

"You think what you have become is the future of the Dalish? You who cannot even hear the winds? It is a Keeper's job to listen," Marethari spoke quietly, but her anger was clear, "You who must call on others, such as myself, to create a sphere for your clan; all because of the wolves that chase you and you alone. It is a Keeper's job to protect their clan and mark their ever changing home."

"I have no need of Keeper's magic." Zathrian rasped out.

"More like you have no aptitude for it any longer," Marethari answered back icily as the wind bit at the back of Zathrian's neck, "You have betrayed the safety of your clan for your vengeance. You have betrayed your charge. You have betrayed Lanaya."

Real anger entered Zathrian's eyes at the truth Marethari spoke. "Who are you to judge, hmm?" Zathrian's voice was harsh with rage and the vine around his neck, "What of Mahariel's boy? Would his parents be proud of what you have done to him? Of what you taught the little bastard? I may not be able to hear the winds any longer, but I can see the fear you hold for that monster."

The sound of wood crashing against wood rang out in the forest as Marethari's staff hit home against Zathrian's skull. The wound drew no blood and tore no flesh. Instead a part of Zathrian's skull had shattered like bark snapping off of a tree. The abomination of Zathrian's flesh healed itself in seconds leaving his skull as if it had never been wounded. Marethari glared in disgust at what her friend had become and because there was truth in what he had said.

"His father died for the both of us and you would dare say such a thing. Look at you," Marethari stopped herself, "Is this what you truly wanted? It matters not. Your wolves have threatened my clan in the past you know."

Zathrian finally had the decency to look ashamed. "You enjoyed watching my suffering have you not? It is why you are here now, no?"

"No, Zathrian. I am here because I have business in your forest. I have magic to work because of the curse you laid so long ago. I am here because of you," Marethari spoke after a long while. She felt so old now, "And I had come to say farewell to someone I once loved. My clan is heading for the Free Marches. I wished to embrace my oldest friend one last time, but I see now that he died so very long ago. The man once called the tree of our people has become little more than a gnarled old root." Marethari held back tears as she turned to leave.

"Keeper Maretha . . . Lethallan." Zathrian gave up his struggle against the roots that held him and the struggle in his heart, "I . . ." He found not the strength for atonement despite his submission to his old friend. "You and I have found great monsters in this world haven't we?" Zathrian bowed his head to her.

"No," Marethari shook her head sadly as visions of a young blood mage tormented her, "We did not stumble upon our monsters, old friend." Marethari drew close to her clansman and kissed his forehead. She pulled away after sometime and no longer felt the need to hold back her tears. "We made our monsters."

The roots that held Zathrian back released him sending the broken elf to his knees and Marethari was gone.

* * *

><p>"Ah, Lothering pretty as a painting," Alistair broke the silence as they finally made it to their destination.<p>

"Oh, he speaks at long last tis a shame," Morrigan jeered, "Done falling on your blade in grief?"

"Is my grief so unbearable?" Alistair burst out finally allowing the bottled up sorrow that had built up within him over the last few days out, "I lost my entire brotherhood! Have you never lost someone important to you? What would you do if your mother died?"

"Before or after I stopped laughing?" Morrigan replied easily, "As for your grief, yes, tis truly sickening. Your fellow grey warden does not exhibit the same pitiful sniveling. Why should you?"

Alistair looked to Theron who for his part sighed at their bickering. When Alistair's gaze did not leave him Theron realized that Alistair was looking for support. He wanted someone capable of empathizing and possibly sharing his grief. It was not something Theron could offer. Theron broke away from Alistair's pleading gaze, discomforted by it, and turned instead to Morrigan.

"I handle grief in a very unique way," Theron smiled, "How do you feel about tea parties and necromancy, Morrigan?"

Morrigan showed confusion and then scoffed deciding he was just a fool. Alistair looked down disappointed with the realization that he was alone. Theron sighed again knowing he had said the wrong thing. They all decided to be silent once more.

The silence unfortunately did not help to liven the mood. Everywhere around them were beggars, refugees, and orphaned children. Too many orphaned children. Cries of sorrow and destitution fouled the air along with the unmistakable presence of darkspawn taint. It was faint, but their corruption was here and soon the town would not be. Normally Theron would have taken it in stride perhaps with even a bit of morbid curiosity, but there were just too many children. It filled him with an unrest that he could not explain.

Something buried within him turned at the sight of these blight stricken children. It felt wrong and it was a feeling Theron wished to crush completely, but found he could not. He wanted to deny it, but there was a connection he felt to these suffering children. He had lost his childhood to a monster as well; the only difference being that Theron's monster had left him stronger and the monsters that plagued these children only left them tainted.

It was the desperation of this town that made Theron feel the full weight of what he had to accomplish. He had to help bring together an army. It was a big task and unfortunately the only resources he had to make this army were a grief stricken templar and the daughter of the immortal witch who he was supposed to kill. Theron did not favor his odds. He needed manpower. Dalish scouting groups worked together at a minimum of six people in a standard party. It was procedure and procedure kept the Dalish alive. Theron desperately wanted to live. Together Alistair, Morrigan, and Theron made three. That was half of what Theron was comfortable with. Oh and there was also the dog, who was currently pissing on a soldier escorting a very large prisoner.

The offended outburst of the soldier drew Theron's attention, but it was the prisoner that held it.

Theron and the tall creature were currently in a staring contest. He wanted to elicit a response from the prisoner. Theron glared, smiled, frowned, and made every sort of face imaginable, but the prisoner offered nothing in return. Theron was beginning to fear that he would lose.

This prisoner was the definition of manpower. He was a hulk of muscle and intimidation the likes of which Theron had never seen. Theron continued to stare lost in thought. He needed more troops and the grey wardens had the right to conscript anyone, Duncan had told him that much on their journey to Ostagar. _No one will complain about one conscripted prisoner._ _This could solve one of, no, maybe two of my problems._ _This could work . . ._

"Why are you staring elf," The soldier demanded finally.

"I wish to fornicate with the giant." Theron said in a voice that was far too serious for anyone's liking. _Still no reaction. Stoic asshole._ "Err that was a joke please laugh." Theron chuckled nervously while scratching the back of his head in awkward fashion. No one laughed.

"Out of the way elf," The soldier shoved Theron not amused.

Theron did not particularly enjoy being shoved by shemlen. "By right of conscription I am taking your prisoner to become a grey warden."

"Wait what?" Alistair exclaimed in half amusement and half bewilderment, "I'm not sure that is the best idea, Theron."

"Grey wardens, eh? You're just lucky I don't have the time to throw you in irons as well. Treacherous bastards the lot of you." The soldier spat in disgust, "Betraying the king at Ostagar. I hope your comrades died screaming. I'll enjoy watching your beheadings when Teryn Loghain finally brings your organization to justice."

That last comment grabbed Alistair's attention and brought forth anger that had been building for many a day. Alistair seized the soldier by his collar and brought him close to his face. His usually warm brown eyes were harsh. "What did you say?"

"You heard me," The soldier threw Alistair's hand aside, "The Teryn has informed all of Ferelden about how you allowed the King and his army to fall. You are traitors to Ferelden it won't be long until you get yours."

Alistair's shock was the only force that held him from throttling the man. The soldier made to leave pulling on the prisoner's chains, but the prisoner stood fast. The soldier pulled again, but this time the beast pulled back. The guard was quickly introduced to the ground.

"You are grey wardens?" The prisoner spoke in a voice that was a deep monotone and calm. The sound did not match the ferocity of the creature's form.

"Ah, you've heard of us and our, err, grand reputation?" Theron said with a faux smile.

"They tell stories of the wardens. Fearsome warriors with no equals," The prisoner answered, "I suppose not all stories are true."

"Ha! You have jokes; you'll fit right in!"

"It was no jest, only truth warden."

"Jokes of the truthful rather than funny sort? Morrigan loves those." Theron continued in a tone that was falsely amicable. He turned to Morrigan with a smile she knew to be anything, but genuine.

"Actually his intuition towards your ineptitude as a warrior is, I find, rather amusing, warden." Morrigan answered back with no kindness. Theron winced at the reply.

_Does everything she says have to sound so demeaning?_ "See you two will get along great!" Theron decided to ignore the comment, "So you want to join?"

"Perhaps? Yes, following would be in line with the Qun," The prisoner said mostly to himself, "But I doubt my captor would allow that." The prisoner turned to his captor who had returned to his feet once more.

Theron looked at the soldier as well, but this time the false affability was gone and his eyes were as ice. This time it was the soldier who flinched. "Kill your captor and I promise a place in the wardens. And should we defeat the blight freedom as well."

"No."

"Good . . . wait no? What do you mean no!"

"You seek recruits for the blight and yet you expect me to gather them for you? No, if you cannot do something as simple as that; the Qun deems you unworthy to follow."

"What? What are you? What kind of . . ." Theron stammered out. He really wanted to see the soldier try to fight of the much larger prisoner and like all children who had been denied something they wanted Theron was unable to respond sensibly.

"I am Qunari. A Sten of the Beresaad if you wish my help go see the chantry's mother about my release." The Qunari offered his challenge and left, comically dragging the soldier along with him towards his new cell.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean I can't have the Qunari!" Theron yelled out in frustration at the old reverend mother that was now head of the chantry and Lothering by extension. Theron had come all the way to this cursed church with its dimly lit candles, foul smelling incense, and false sense of self-righteousness. He would be damned if didn't leave with his newfound toy. He fought the urge to stomp his feet when he noticed that Morrigan's eyes seemed to be laughing at him and his struggles. He also noticed that Alistair seemed embarrassed by the whole situation.<p>

The old woman stared in annoyance at the elf that claimed to be a grey warden. Even Alistair at this point had to admit Theron was acting immaturely. "Reverend mother," Alistair stepped in hoping to mediate, "My fellow warden here is very keen on recruiting the Qunari and the wardens do need men. Perhaps we can come to an agreement?"

"No, the Qunari has committed heinous crimes. Justice must be served and if I release him he may add countless others to his offenses." The chantry mother seemed resolute in her decision, but there was something underneath that Theron picked up on.

"What did the Qunari do?" Theron asked his petulant whining gone and his tone now serious. The sudden change in demeanor drew everyone's attention.

"He is guilty of slaughtering an entire family of farmers. Even the children were not spared."

Theron froze at that he held no love for those who harmed children. It was the one thing even he would not turn his back on, but that did not mean he would give up the Qunari so easily. All that had changed was what he planned to do with him. The plan had been born when he first saw the Qunari. He had found two paths to choose. Either enlist him as a soldier, they really did need more manpower, or use him as a sacrifice. Morrigan wanted a demon's barter to maintain their friendship and it was Theron's job to provide the currency, the meat. The Qunari was a great deal of meat to offer. _Child murderer gets offered to a demon that sounds fitting._

"Surely there is some way to persuade you? I promise he will serve his time twice over as a warden." Theron offered once again.

"No, the grey wardens are officially traitors to Ferelden. If Lothering was not already over taxed with bandits, refugees, and orphans I would call for your arrest as well. Why should I do such a thing?" The reverend mother repeated once more a plan was forming in her mind and Theron could see it. _She will make her demands soon._ The wheels were turning, but Theron refused to just play along without struggle.

"Because if you don't you may have more than just a Qunari to worry about, reverend mother." Theron toyed idly with his knife. The Chantry office had gone silent.

"We threaten priests now how fun!" Morrigan exclaimed in great enjoyment. The outburst had caught Theron by surprise. The smile and actual sense of approval from Morrigan was astonishing to say the least. There was also something approaching girly in her voice.

Alistair looked at both of them in great alarm and made to fix the situation, but the roar of laughter from the reverend mother took them all by surprise.

"You think to threaten me? In a building full of Templars?" The old woman almost sounded amused, "You threaten me? Your stature is shorter than mine and you're an elf. What could you possibly do to me?"

Theron felt his eye twitching in annoyance and even embarrassment. _Why is it that every time I meet an old hag I end up being laughed at? _Theron gritted his teeth deciding to play along, "What do you want? I'm tired of this dance." The sound of Morrigan snorting in disdain did not go unnoticed. _And there goes any good will I may have gained. I really need to hurt something._

"Fine grey warden," There was a taunt in the way the reverend mother said warden, "I will tell you the price. There is a small group of bandits, maybe four or five outside of town. My templars tell me they are mostly likely attached to the recent abduction of refugees. Deal with them and you can have your Qunari."

Theron mock bowed and left. He wanted to be out of the church more than anything at the moment. Humiliation was a powerful motivator. _I need to hurt something. _Unfortunately for the young blood mage he would have to wait as Alistair rather than following had seemed to notice someone in the chantry.

"Ser Donall? Is that you?"

"Alistair what are you doing here? I had heard the grey wardens were all lost." A tall man in a very official set of armor asked.

"I managed to survive, but I have to ask does Arl Eamon know the truth about Loghain?" Alistair spoke quickly, "Can you send word for us?"

"Alistair," Ser Donall took them all aside his tone low so as not to be over heard, "I have heard many rumors. I do not believe it safe to speak openly here especially with the accusations thrown at your organization, but there is much news to tell from Redcliffe. Meet me at the inn here in town we can speak safely there." Ser Donall took his leave quickly.

"Alistair?" Theron asked.

"Ser Donall is trust worthy and we will need Arl Eamon's support if we wish to stand a chance against Loghain now more than ever." Alistair said the weight of being branded traitor fully hitting him. Ser Donall was not an easy man to intimidate. "Your Qunari though . . ." Alistair faded off.

"Well what have you decided? This Donall is your lead not mine." Theron asked, immediately regretting his words when Alistair froze up. _Right does not like making decisions for the group. _"Well gathering information never hurt. Let's go see what he has to say."

* * *

><p>They were attacked on sight when they first entered the inn. A group of soldiers who had survived Ostagar and loyal to Loghain thought to collect the bounties on their heads. Fortunately they had received help from a priestess of all things. Theron looked oddly at the woman with the bright red hair. She was in the robes of the chantry, but wielded a pair of short swords and from the way she had disarmed two of the soldiers all on her own it was clear she knew how to use them. It was almost comical. Theron decided he would laugh later. He made to finish the leader of the attacking soldiers, who was now on his knees subdued.<p>

"Wait! They have surrendered. I do not wish them . . ." The sister began.

Theron ignored her and drove his knife into the skull of the soldier. Morrigan finished the rest with a very curt lightning spell when Theron asked her to. The scene was grisly, five soldiers charred by the lightning Morrigan had conjured and one soldier whose body was still on his knees with Theron's knife protruding from his skull; the red headed sister began to pray. The inn was silent.

Theron retrieved his knife. "So drinks on me?" Theron shamelessly took the deceased's gold and paid the innkeeper. The innkeeper for his part just nodded accepting the offering and summoning servants to clear the room. The spectators began to clear out, many of them returning to the safety of their rooms. Theron sighed, "Why is everyone always so squeamish?"

"You could have offered them mercy." The sister spoke again and Theron finally noticed that she had a rather foreign accent. He thought he heard Alistair whisper Orlesian.

"They would report our whereabouts to a very nasty person. That is not something we need, sister."

"I see," The red head was muttering to herself now, "Are you sure? Are they truly the ones you spoke of? But, I did not expect such cruelty from . . . well . . . alright then."

The woman seemed to be in deep discussion with someone. The group all took a step back except for Theron who gazed in interest.

"Err who are you talking to?" Alistair asked finally a great deal disturbed.

"The Maker. He told me of your coming. I am Leliana a lay sister of the Lothering chantry; I am to help you defeat the blight." She spoke quite seriously with the kind of conviction that only faith could grant. Alistair began whispering something about always running into the crazy ones and Morrigan walked ever closer to the door. But Theron took a step forward looking straight in the red headed woman's eyes. She stared back and for a second Theron saw her conviction crack.

"The Maker spoke to me of you as well," Theron said seriously causing Leliana's eyes to widen in hope. It caused Alistair and Morrigan to look at him with incredulity, but Theron continued anyway. "The words came in the dawn, the voice radiant and fair. The light of the morning sun brought hope. The warmth it was so warm . . ." He trailed off.

"G-go on please," Leliana urged.

"It said in tones so sweet: Hark child go forth to Lothering, a town on the precipice of shadow, and find a light. A woman of beauty, with hair of fire and a profession of virtue awaits you," Theron paused his blue eyes now calm, meeting Leliana's excited blue gaze, "Together you will shine a light on the dark ones and the song of the Maker will sing out to all corners of Thedas. The Maker needs us sister." Theron concluded bowing his head.

"R-really? Truly you heard the Maker as well; his fire filling your soul? His voice gracing your mind?" Her Orlesian accent trembled, "I'm not the only one who has heard his voice in the confines of their mind?"

"No, you nutbag. Hearing voices in your head is not normal." Theron deadpanned. The shaking of Alistair's armor filled the room as he laughed and even Morrigan did not stop herself from sniggering at Theron's deception. The sister stormed out of the tavern.

"Take note that is how we deal with the crazy people."

"That was incredibly cruel," Alistair, wheezed out, his body still shaking with laughter.

"Cruelty is the only treatment pious fools such as her deserve." Morrigan added genially. Theron noted for the second time in one day Morrigan was smiling happily. The witch truly seemed to love tormenting women of the chantry.

"Well then who wants to help me hunt some bandits and free a Qunari?" Theron asked jovially.

"Sorry, but I agreed to meet Ser Donall here remember? You'll have to do this one without me." Alistair went to take a seat at the back of the inn's tavern.

"Oh, yes I forgot, well then, Morrigan?" Theron turned to notice she was already gone.

"I guess it's just me then." Theron rolled his eyes not knowing that a red headed sister was still listening in the shadows.

* * *

><p>Theron crouched a safe distance away from the cave. Theron had found the bandit's camp easily. They had left tracks from Lothering's massive windmill leading all the way back to the small cave they used as their base of operations. These bandits were clearly untrained. The tracks indicated four men, the foot prints were too big to be from a woman, occupied the cave. Theron could here the sounds of the men drinking all the way from the outside. <em>Complete amateurs.<em>

The plan of attack was simple even simpler now that Theron realized the targets would most likely be intoxicated. Subjugating as many as four sentient beings was taxing, but he had done it before. The men were all unaware of his presence, meaning they would be caught by surprise. The blood domination spell was easier to cast successfully if the targets did not have the mental preparation to combat it. That was all mind control of any kind was at its core, a battle of wills. _Enthrall one have him attack creating a distraction. And slowly enthrall the rest. I'll be in and out in a matter of minutes._

Theron thought his plans had been foiled as a single arrow struck the ground far too closely to a part of his anatomy that he was very fond of. He found himself falling backwards on his hindquarters. He looked up to meet his assailant; it was the sister from the inn. This time, however, instead of finding her in the garb of a priestess she was adorned in leather armor adorned with iron studs and pointing a bow at him, or more accurately his crotch. Theron did not find her appearance comical this time.

"I wish to accompany you in your fight against the blight," Leliana began her bow still pointing at Theron's crotch.

"You could just say please you know." Theron grimaced; looking nervously back at the cave hoping no one was hearing them talking.

"I tired that, but I now know that you are not one to be impressed by words," Leliana answered back her accent fierce, "I will help you bring these men to justice to prove my skill. Are we clear?"

"Or what?" Theron finally regained his composure; the clearly insane woman was not going to intimidate him. "You going to think really hard to the voice in your he . . ." Another arrow was fired this time even closer to the spot Theron really wanted to keep in one piece. He paled immediately; was she just a really poor shot or a really good one?

"No, if you do not comply I will shoot you some where you do **not** wish to be shot." Leliana's tone was resolute, "The Maker has informed me that a firm hand is required to get your attention, no?"

"Sounds arousing," Theron smiled back, "I like being span . . ." A third and final arrow was fired pinning his pants to the ground. The arrow placed very accurately between the small area of free space between his thigh and his . . . dangling parts.

Theron bit down hard on his hand to muffle the scream that had come out of his mouth; he really didn't need to add bandits to his list of problems right now. Luckily biting down on his hand served another purpose as well. Blood had been drawn and the red headed lunatic was completely unaware.

"Do not think of casting that spell, you will be dead before you get complete control over me" Leliana warned in a serious tone noticing the utter disbelief on Theron's face, "That is right I know what you are blood mage. The voice in my head told me that, the **Maker** told me that."

Theron blinked once, his blue eyes widening, wandering up and down Leliana's form. _Now isn't that interesting. _There was a sustained pause and Leliana had the oddest sensation that she was being truly watched by this mage for the first time.

"Alright," Theron answered at a lackadaisical pace, "But I require some level of obedience. Are you willing to listen to my commands in combat?" When Leliana nodded her head in assent Theron smiled so widely and so falsely that Leliana could not suppress the chills that fanned out across her body. "Good, now here is the plan."

* * *

><p>Leliana had to agree that Theron's plan was a good one. A combination of stealth, blood magic, and properly placed arrows. It was also simple, but that only added to its effectiveness. Enthrall a bandit have him initiate a fight and slowly enthrall the rest. Leliana for her part was to simply provide a kill shot anytime she was ordered to. It was very likely that they would be in and out without anyone noticing.<p>

Leliana did have one objection, however. She pleaded with Theron to spare one of the bandits. The mercy was not out of some mistaken sense of piety she explained, but rather so there would be someone to give an account of how many had been abducted and killed. It would bring resolution to many people who had missing loved ones. It would lessen the workload of the Lothering Chantry a great deal.

The lie did not impress Theron one bit, but in the end Theron agreed. He would spare exactly one bandit to hand over to the Chantry. It was better to offer the crotch-threatening lunatic something so that her future arrows would be aimed at Theron's other head. Leliana had smiled at Theron's agreement and even thanked him. Theron smiled back, but it was one of his false smiles.

And so together the sister and the blood mage quietly infiltrated the cave. What they found was no mere bandit outpost. The smell of alcohol, sweat, putrid meat cooking, and most alarmingly blood created a miasma so thick that Leliana felt her body immediately enter a battle with the bile that threatened to be released. Leliana lost that battle when they saw the cause of the blood.

There were bodies a lot of them, all women with hair the color red. They all looked a little too much like Leliana for her liking. Their bodies were a mess of bruises and broken limbs; their backs covered in long cuts most likely the result of a whip, but Theron recognized some of the cuts as the work of a knife. The pooled blood from the body pile dampened the ground. It was clear what purpose these women had been abducted for; what perverse and dark desires they had fulfilled. Theron was unfazed until he saw the children.

Their bodies brought back memories of a boy watching as a knife cut into shoulder. The muscle had been harshly pushed aside to show the bone, the voice calm, detached, gave the bone a name, humerus. Theron pushed the memories away focusing again on the scene before him. _Why keep the children? _It truly was a puzzle Theron could not solve from the bodies alone. He still needed more information.

These bodies lacked the obvious signs of torture and rape of the others. These bodies only had one single cut across the throat. Theron was not comforted by the fact that these children had died quickly. He decided then that none of the bandits would be allowed to live even if he had made a promise to the sister. His thoughts went back to his companion still struggling against her stomach. He needed to calm her before she alerted the bandits.

Theron bent down casting a mild healing spell to ease her discomfort. He also held her short hair back and rubbed her back awkwardly. He supposed that it seemed like the right thing to do, something Marethari or Ashalle would do and if it helped shut her up Theron was willing to continue. Leliana once soothed had looked up with surprised, but grateful eyes. Theron just nodded in discomfort at her gaze and quietly asked if she was ready. The sister nodded.

Theron and Leliana found the bandits farther into the cave; three intoxicated and armed with poor weapons and light armor, but the fourth showed no signs of the same drunkenness and was dressed in heavy armor. Theron immediately recognized him as the leader. Theron set his plan into motion. His knife released the power that flowed in his veins. Enthralling the first was effortless; the bandit was too far-gone in his intoxication to put up any kind of struggle. His subjugated bandit attacked causing confusion for the other two equally inebriated bandits, but Theron noticed how the one in the heavy armor cautiously armed himself with shield and sword. Theron enthralled the other two drunkards engaged in battle with Theron's pawn and ordered Leliana to strike. Her arrows met their target.

Everything had gone perfectly or so Theron thought as he tried to subjugate the final bandit. His attempts were resisted and the failure revealed their location to him. This last man, whoever he was, had skill and training beyond any mere bandit. Theron order another arrow from Leliana, but the man raised his shield to block and attacked Leliana forcing her to switch to the pair of daggers at her waist. Leliana danced and parried from the bandit's attacks, but even with Theron providing support they were losing ground.

Theron realized then a direct fight would result in their loss. Theron summoned up the mana around him in an attempt to raise the deceased in to his service, but before the spell could finish the heavily armored man swung his blade at him. Theron avoided the strike, but immediately felt the mana he had conjured vanish. Theron realized then why this man was so capable. _He's a templar. Standard tactics will not work. Damn I haven't come up with a plan to deal with this kind of opponent yet. Think._

Theron drew his knife and helped Leliana hold their ground, but still they were failing. The templar struck once more and Leliana avoided, but received a shallow cut in turn. Blood had been drawn, but it did nothing to help Theron. _Damn it we are not going to win this fight. I need to enthrall him. _Theron knew what had to be done_, _the Keeper's teachings gracing his memories. The only way to enthrall someone who had sufficient will to stop the pull of the mage's blood was to draw power from the blood of the man himself. If they could make the templar bleed the combined power of Theron's blood and the Templar's blood would make the blood domination spell impossible to resist.

Leliana struck back in anger kicking up dirt into the man's eyes and retreating. Theron could feel her heart pounding faster; she was growing scared. She knew she could not best the templar in a battle of blades. She did not want to share the fate of those women.

The templar smirked, "A red head with some fight in ya, I like that."

"Theron?" Leliana asked returning to a defensive posture.

"If we can make him bleed, we win." Theron said getting ready to attack the templar once more. Leliana nodded in understanding.

They attacked together trying to find an opening, but were constantly countered by the superior warrior. Theron found himself overextended mid-strike and received a shield bash to his face. The blow had crushed his nose and sent him to the ground. Blood leaked heavily from the wound. But Theron's defeat caused an opening for Leliana. Twin daggers struck; one to the shield arm and one to the shield hand, the result was a disarming of the Templar's shield.

The victory was short-lived as the templar countered once more sending the flat of his blade to Leliana's head. Leliana was forced into one last move of desperation, the Orlesian faint. She positioned her body in such a way as to soften the blow and fell back to the ground towards Theron fooling both men into thinking the blow had rendered her unconscious.

The entire action left the templar far off balance and Theron used the opportunity to drive his knife into the templar's foot. The man howled in pain, but most importantly his blood had been drawn. The second blood domination spell did not fail.

"Got you." Theron boasted as he healed his nose. He noticed that the sister was still out or so Leliana led them to believe. _Good can kill him while she is down, but first some fun._ "It's a bit different taking on a real adversary is it not, templar?"

"Fuck you," The templar growled out frozen in his body.

"Ah, yes, well not today, but that is what you do right?" Theron began calmly his tone that of a friend, "Abduct these women and rape them. A way to establish your dominance; you must have some very deep-rooted insecurities, templar. Still not very impressive; the prey you chose was weak."

"The weak are meant to sustain the strong." The templar spat back in anger.

"Now, considering your current predicament, do you really want me to believe that?" Theron asked in earnest his jovial tone still present, "Are you, the weak, ready to sustain me, the strong? Are you ready to be devoured, templar?"

The templar seemed unimpressed with the taunt. "You going to kill me or just talk to me?"

"Talk and then maybe death. You see there is something I have to know." Theron realized he should not concern himself with the petty inquiry that held his thoughts, but he could not master his own curiosity. His tone grew dark all of his prior amicability disappeared. "The children what do you do with them. Obviously they are not receiving the same treatment as the women. So why bother with them at all?" Theron knew he did not want to hear the answer. Anger was building in him that he knew would not serve him well.

"I like to make them watch."

It was six simple words, each one syllable and yet they echoed in his mind. The memory returning once again; a boy watched as a knife cut into shoulder. The muscle had been harshly pushed aside to show the bone, the voice calm, detached, gave the bone a name, humerus.

Theron did not know how long he had been punching the man, but when felt his own knuckles begin to bleed he realized it must have been quiet a while.

The templar, his own face now bloodied, began to laugh. "I see. Let me guess some, what do you call us, ah yes; a shemlen made you his plaything too? Who's the one with the deep-rooted insecurities now, blood mage?"

Leliana had not moved once from her position allowing them to believe she was still unconscious. She wanted to make her presence known, but when Theron had begun to interrogate the man she had kept her silence and when he had attacked the man she had been too shocked to move. Now, she realized, she was about to invade on something dark, something private. She wanted to get up, but her mind told her to listen, the Maker told her to listen.

Theron did not know why he answered the man, but found his voice acted on its own detached from his desires. "Yes, that shemlen made me what I am. My clansmate and I were abducted too just like these children . . . I, heh, wanted her friendship, a foolish desire, so I followed her into the woods and we were taken," Theron laughed lightly the same feeling of detachment ruling him, "There are thirty bones in the arm. The shemlen taught me that; being conscious for your own dissection can change you. It's how I first realized the power of blood. I used my clansmate's blood to heal myself you see." Theron paused his eyes wide, reliving that moment once more.

"And your friend what did she do?" The templar asked once the silence had become too pronounced.

"That's the best part!" Theron's voice had taken on a tone of mad amusement, "She saw me for the blood mage I was, the monster I am." Theron's glee replaced itself with rage. "She couldn't stand the sight of me," Theron growled out, the tone causing Leliana to wince in pity or perhaps disgust. Theron drew close to the immobilized templar whispering in his ear so quietly that Leliana found she could no longer hear him, "Thirty bones in the arm; do you want to learn their names like I did?" Theron pulled his knife from the templar's foot ready to teach.

Leliana chose that moment to fake her return to consciousness. Her body stirred slowly stopping Theron's next course of action. "Ugh my head. What happened?" Leliana asked faking an unsure tone. Theron cursed to himself, but gathered his composure quickly.

"You caused an opening that allowed me to draw his blood. You did well. I'll be happy to have you along in our battle against the blight." Theron smiled falsely, hoping to distract her enough so that she would leave him alone with the bandit.

Leliana realized the insincerity of his smile, but was not disheartened by it. What she had overheard destroyed any doubts she had about the blood mage. He was not evil rather he was just misguided. He was broken like her, but he had agreed to bring her along and with that she swore to herself that she would help the poor elf find the light. She would help see the Maker's plan. She would be his friend. "Oh, good they will tell stories of your journey. I am proud to be a part of it."

Theron nodded, "Will you go fetch the authorities in Lothering. I do not want risk him breaking my control by forcing his movements. He has templar training, no doubt your Chantry will be interested." _Just do as I ask sister. I need this._

Leliana looked unsure and decided it would be best to just confront him directly, "You will not kill him will you?"

_Damn it. _Theron chose his words carefully as he continued to hold his smile. "As long as he does not force me too, then I suppose that is not necessary." Theron felt the speeding pulse of the subdued man and realized he was about to speak. Theron forced his silence.

Leliana finally nodded her assent, "Be safe."

"I will . . . and thank you for your help, Leliana," Theron added not really paying attention any longer. The red head beamed at him happy that for the first time since they had met he had used her name. When she had finally left Theron turned back to the templar and smiled truly for the first time. He was going to watch this man break.

Theron's work was slow. He started with a single cut right above the man's lip close enough to his nasal passage for him to smell the red iron. Blood by itself is naturally alarming to animals, but ones own blood is truly frightening. Unfortunately, Theron found that this man was not easily frightened and as time passed he began to wonder if the man was really a monster in disguise.

Theron stabbed him, cut off an ear, even forced the man to pull his own nails out with the help of blood magic, but still he cursed and raged at Theron. Theron could not figure out how to break him. Sure he could make him howl in pain, make him cry, but never once did the man stop fighting. Not once did he beg; not once did the true terror of accepting your own demise enter this man's mind. And that was what Theron craved most, mastery over another being. Control over someone else to make up for the control he was lacking in his own life.

As he made to pull out another of the man's nails, the sound of foot scraping stone drew his attention. What he saw froze the young mage in place. A child of nine years, ten at most, with red hair had been watching him. Around his neck was a necklace he was clutching tightly to.

This child that had not been killed yet, this child that had watched his mother's suffering unable to control what was happening; this young child was like him. Theron motioned him to come over after his initial shock vanished. The child complied unsure and asked, "What are you doing?"

Theron did not know how to answer that, but the erratic heartbeat of the templar intrigued him. That speeding pulse was not for Theron it was for the child. The first true signs of terror had appeared and Theron now had a plan.

"This man hurt your sister or perhaps your mother?" Theron continued once he saw the child nod, "What did he do?"

"H-he made mom cry."

"Bad men do that. But tell me would you like to make your mother smile?" Theron asked softly, smiling at the curiosity that entered the child's eyes. He continued, "You see this knife here? It is a magic knife! Every time you cut a bad person with it your mamae will smile." Theron thought he could make a very good children's writer.

"Really?"

Theron handed him the knife and smiled when the templar began to beg. The boy started slowly, but after the first few cuts the instinctive anger inside him came through. Each slash was coming faster, surer, and more eager. The necklace around his neck fell to the ground unnoticed and Theron went to pick it up.

The child's strikes were coming slower now and Theron stopped the child before he made a killing blow. Theron looked at the templar wanting to see his defeat. His eyes were dull and broken, but Theron took no satisfaction in it. This terror, this servility, it was not for him. It was for the child and Theron could not understand why.

* * *

><p>Merrill had noticed her Keeper's absence from the banquet, but it did not surprise her. Keeper Marethari was always up to something, while others took part in merriment. Merrill had taken part in a great deal of merriment. The banquet had ended some time ago, but Merrill had been given one job from Marethari and that was to get to know Lanaya.<p>

Merrill had gotten to know Lanaya very well indeed. So well in fact that she currently found herself in a state of undress in her fellow First's tent. Lying next to Merrill was Lanaya in an equal state of undress asleep. Lanaya curled up further against Merrill seeking warmth. Merrill was quite sure she had gone above and beyond the call of duty.

Now Merrill had decided she liked her fellow mage from the minute she had laughed so prettily at her male pattern baldness inquiry, but it was clear that Lanaya was a very private person. Merrill needed her to open up if she was going to complete her task. So during the banquet Merrill came up with a plan and stole a bottle of spirits as Marethari liked to call them. Merrill just called them booze because that was what she remembered Theron calling them.

Once the necessary material had been acquired Merrill waited for the banquet to end and asked if Lanaya wanted to talk some more. The blonde elf had agreed and they headed for her tent. When Merrill had presented the bottle Lanaya had denied at first claiming Keeper Zathrian would not approve, but Merrill could see the desire to let loose was buried underneath the responsibility of being a First. Merrill knew because she often felt the same stress and even told Lanaya so. Tonight was as much for Merrill as it was for Marethari. Merrill had plans of her own and that required Lanaya's friendship as well.

Lanaya relented and asked Merrill if there was anything she feared, since apparently she held none for a Keeper's punishment. Merrill happily smiled and shook her head no. Merrill had asked her if a great many things scared her. Lanaya admitted that yes she was often scared, but hid it from everyone else. After a few drinks Lanaya had complemented Merrill on being so brave. With shy downcast eyes and an alcohol induced blush Lanaya admitted that she wished that she could be just as brave.

Merrill laughed into her small hand and told her that being brave was easy. All you had to do was act, like the way she had stolen the bottle. Lanaya still looked unsure; she also looked a little drunk. Merrill asked what had caused her so much fear. It had taken more than half of the bottle to get Lanaya to finally tell Merrill.

Lanaya's story of how she had been found by Zathrian serving a group of shemlen who had raped and abused her for years brought Merrill to tears. Lanaya's journey of how she rose to the top of a Dalish clan to become First, even though she was not originally of the nomadic elves, earned her Merrill's respect. And the honesty with which Lanaya admitted that she still felt uneasiness around men with which she fought everyday brought out Merrill's curiosity.

It was after learning all of this that Merrill decided she really liked Lanaya.

Merrill grabbed her shoulder reassuringly and said that Lanaya was in fact the bravest elf she knew. She also assured Lanaya that she could do whatever act of bravery she desired. It had taken the entire bottle for Lanaya to take that action.

Lanaya approached Merrill slowly and settled on top of her lap. Merrill could smell the alcohol on her breath, not that it mattered Merrill had reached her limits long ago as well. Merrill laughed when Lanaya began tickling her neck with kisses and asked what she was doing. Lanaya had responded saying that she was doing something brave. And as her lips continued downward Merrill decided she really, really liked Lanaya.

Yes, Merrill had gotten to know Lanaya quite well and when Marethari and Zathrian entered the tent because they had still not gotten up, despite it being midday, she smiled proud of a job well done. Merrill's bare form was open to them unashamedly, while Lanaya desperately tried to cover herself mortified that her Keeper had seen her this way. Merrill had caused Zathrian to sputter once again as he quickly left the tent.

Marethari was once again was caught completely unaware by her First's actions and simply told Merrill to be ready to leave in an hour. Merrill gave a salute still either unaware of her exposure or simply indifferent to it. Merrill gave Lanaya a gift before she left, a shard of the eluvian she had found in the temple and simply told her that she would be in touch. Merrill still had her own plans to fulfill.

It was sometime into the forest that the Keeper finally spoke to Merrill.

"Dalen,"

"Yes Keeper?" Merrill responded happily.

"I was unaware that you preferred a similar gender," Marethari began, "Normally woman of the clan are required to bring children into this world for the continuation of our people."

Merrill simply nodded unsure of why the Keeper was telling her things she already knew.

"I just wanted to tell you it is alright. Since you are First to the clan you are under no such requirements." Marethari hoped she was being supportive.

"Oh bringing children should not be a problem for me Keeper." Merrill began skipping again.

"What do you mean?" the Keeper asked confused, had she misunderstood the scene in the tent?

Merrill stopped suddenly drawing the Keepers alarm. The young elven mage looked to her right and then to her left. "Do you hear that Keeper. The winds from the east and the west?"

Marethari drew her staff in alarm; she found no winds to listen to. What foul magic was afoot?

"The winds Keeper," Merrill said again, "they blow both ways!" Merrill laughed and began skipping once more.

Marethari sighed in annoyance, while a root magically appeared to trip Merrill. The young mage fell face first into the dirt and realized that, once again, she had said something wrong.

* * *

><p>Theron did not really know why he was taking the boy's heirloom to him and yet he found himself making the unnecessary trip to the spare safe house the chantry had set up for the orphaned children. It was dark and it made no sense to delay their departure for such trivialities as Morrigan had put it.<p>

And yet when Leliana had informed him that it was only the boy and another girl present in the house; Theron had felt the need to see him. Leliana had just smiled in that eerie way and said the Maker had something he wanted Theron to see.

Theron needed to return the last memory the boy could have of his mother. Theron wanted the child to be well and perhaps even needed it on some level. And for all of his mental power he could not understand why.

He finally attributed his feelings to the fact that the child had made the bandit scared. It had impressed Theron. With one single cut the boy had broken the bandit's spirit, claimed mastery over the man. It was something Theron could not do despite his well-versed experience, but that in and of itself was another mystery that plagued Theron.

The whole event was so similar to the way the Keeper had found him and Merrill with the shemlen so long ago. The shemlen back then had only really broken when Theron himself had cut him as well. Perhaps shemlen had an instinctual fear of children who had power over them? Innocence was causing their terror?

He had finally reached the orphanage . . . shack. The building was run down. That the chantry was actively stowing orphaned children in this dingy building was a testament to the desperate situation the darkspawn had forced Lothering into.

When Theron entered the shack he was surprised to find that there was no adult present. The reverend mother had said the chantry's manpower was overtaxed. It made sense that the building would lack adult supervision and yet Theron found himself angry. That they would even consider leaving two children alone over night in this pathetic excuse they called a refuge. That they would leave the child he had helped alone; the child that had impressed him so.

Theron squashed his anger. It was useless the children were probably asleep by now. He would just leave the damned necklace next the boy's bed and then be gone away from this infuriating village and the confusion it caused.

He entered what appeared to be the bedroom and found blood. It was pooled around a young girl covered in uneven, crooked cuts. It was the work of an amateur, the work of a child.

The boy he helped was standing over a young girl now dead. The knife Theron had given him in his hands stained with blood. The boy's own being covered in the color of life, the color red. The truth was clear and horrible.

"Theron! What are you doing here?" The boy asked excitedly, happy to see him.

"You dropped your necklace I wanted to return it." Theron responded his entire being disconnected from the scene.

The boy rushed over and claimed his mother's heirloom, giving Theron a hug, and thanking him. When the boy finally pulled away and returned to the girl's body Theron notice the blood that stained his own clothes now. The blood returned him to his senses.

"Why did you do this?" Theron finally asked.

"I wanted to make mom smile again!"

Theron fought the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him.

Theron stared down at the young boy his bright red hair now dulled by the blood of the innocent. No longer a child, he was something more, something unnatural. A child now dead and replaced with a creature born of blood, a monster, Theron's monster. His smile crooked, turned to meet Theron his unknowing priest once more. _What have I done?_

"Wanna help Theron?"

There was fear in that room.

Theron recognized the speeding pulse, the terror, it was his own and in that moment he found clarity, understanding. He had learned. He now knew the reason he could not instill true terror in the Bandit who had stolen so much from this child. He now knew the reason his shemlen friend from so long ago only screamed when he inflicted the wound and not the Keeper. He understood why this child caused his blood to run cold.

Theron understood why he was afraid.

The true terrors in this world are not the monsters we find, but rather the monsters we make.


	5. Precautionary Measures

The Lonely Path

Chapter 5: Precautionary Measures

_Do you know why the rabbit runs?_ It was a question the Keeper had asked him once before. The answer seemed so clear now. An inherited trait, passed down through the evolutionary history of a species, worked to ensure the animals existence. Consequences like being devoured by the hawk or caught and skinned by the hunter never cross into the mind of prey. If such thoughts did they would already be caught. _Do you know why the rabbit runs? _Rabbits run because they are afraid. The consequences did not matter; fear mattered. So what can the mind of a man, a mind that is capable of understanding the consequences of actions, do when the consequences of his actions threaten to consume him? He gives into fear and he runs. _Why does the rabbit run? _It was all so clear now.

The red haze cast a background against the dancing stars, his vision was threatening to fade. The blood on his hands was not his own, but was his doing. A child was dead and it was his doing. One of the few atrocities even the most hardened of men did not condone. A crime he did not condone. Evil has standards. That is a lie told to protect the immoral from the truth. It is men who have standards. And if men create their standards that would mean they have the potential to transcend or give in to them; they have the potential to be so much more. Men have standards, but they hide behind evil like a child hides beneath the blanket. Evil is not an entity it is an action.

Dried crimson puce stained his attire. _No more red. No more red._ Running now, he was stumbling and tripping through that cold alley. It was cold; the changing of seasons, the death of fall would meet the grave of winter. Monsters rule the winter and rabbits hide in their holes._ Run rabbit run. _Faster now the monster, his monster, must be left behind, but the guilt cannot. So he sprints because in front waits his group. A group of monsters as well, but they were not **his **monsters.

_Rapid shallow breaths. Cold, wet skin. Cool sweat. A weak speeding pulse. Delirium of the mind. General muscle weakness. Pain in the chest._ What were these things? And why did these strips of incomplete thought color the red haze and stars of his vision? They were symptoms, symptoms of shock. Pure unadulterated fear cools the burn in his legs. Tunnel vision sets in and sooner than he can perceive monsters were next to him, stopping his mad dash.

Wind cuts the clammy skin of a frightened man's face. Heart pounding, its sound was deafening and the thrumming of the blood caused his ears to throb. He could not hear. He did not want to hear. No one condemned desires to listen to their sentence. What would these monsters choose as his sentence?

But they would not convict him because how could they know? No one had to know; no one except the one who does not want to know. He would never forget.

_Theron are you okay? _It was a distant call his trauma-addled mind could not process. Vision still working, but barely, stared past the concerned earthen brown of gaze of Alistair and met the eerie smile of a blood haired woman. The short red locks flowed down her face like the blood of a butchered child. But she was clean. Her attire was free from the liquid iron. Her skin clear and white was not defiled by cuts. She knew, somehow, she knew. Perhaps a bard can tell more than just a tale.

"We're leaving now."

* * *

><p>Jumping from the tallest tower in Ferelden into the waters of lake Calenhad is not difficult. Neither was committing suicide for that matter. However, jumping from the tallest tower in Ferelden into the waters of lake Calenhad and surviving whilst convincing Templar and mage alike that his suicide was genuine happens to be very difficult. It requires very precise control of mana in the form of spirit bolts to slow the body's rate of descent down to a speed that does not equate to instant death on impact with the lake. It also required stamina and proper backstroke technique to finish the journey from the island the circle of magi was situated on to the docks on the other side. Finally, while not exactly necessary, a grand monologue about the meaninglessness of life simply added something of a theatrical element to the feigned suicide attempt.<p>

Precision, stamina, technique, and a love of theatrics were all necessary elements to a successful escape. And as luck would have it the mage Anders happened to have all of these elements in spades. Still jumping from such heights and surviving was something only a person truly versed in the arts of escape could accomplish and Anders, despite what he claimed in a public venue, did not consider himself to have mastered the art. He was always caught in the end after all. This was a plan born of desperation and boredom, but only taking desperate measures could cure monotony. However, this course of action demanded a certain confidence and the shouts of "do it, do it" coming from his fellow mages were not helping his morale.

However, Anders would be damned if stage-fright lead to his downfall. He cleared his throat loudly as he began his suicide speech. "Life! The grand journey for meaning amongst the lake of meaninglessness has bested me, my comrades in mana. Narcissism is a . . ."

"Jump already queer!"

"Well I never! While I can understand a certain desire for the macabre being fulfilled by my suicide, to insult me based on my sexual preferences with a common-tongued slur is simply uncouth! It is also not entirely accurate because despite my decidedly fabulous sense of fashion, I mean really look at my lovely feathery pauldrons, and my natural insight into all that is feminine, I happen to enjoy both sexes equally." Anders literally huffed in annoyance at his fellow mages. "You uncultured ragamuffins are just plain rude!"

"Hey guys if the templars ask what happened we can just tell them Anderfels!" The entire room erupted in laughter at the not-so-clever geographical play on words, while Anders merely shook his head in distaste. Really the circle of magi had been a respectable order at one point in history. How the mighty have fallen.

"Oh, you are sooooo funny Finn! Did you think of that all by yourself or did you get help from Eadri . . ." Anders stopped himself as he caught the gleam of the Knight Commander's armor and worried face of one of the younger Templars. The exchanging of alarmed glances between mage and Templar, silence for an instance that spanned eternity, the young Templar desperately fighting his way through the crowd to save him, and then Anders jumped.

An intake of breath was followed once more by silence. That silence was then shattered as the young Templar slammed his steel plated fist against the walls of the tower. "Maker's breath, why!"

The hand of Knight-Commander Greagoir squeezed his shoulder in understanding. "There is nothing you could have done. It is not your fault Cullen."

* * *

><p>Theron sat in his tent staring at the chalice he had 'acquired' the day he became a grey warden. It was a simple thing. It had no decorative engravings, no rare gems impressed on its form, and most oddly Theron could barely feel the magic it had been charged with. That this item would hold so much importance to the ritual he needed to complete surprised him greatly. Theron read through the tome that had been left to him by his parents; the legacy Marethari had told him he was destined to complete. Theron had questioned it at first; it was obvious that the Keeper had manipulated him to this point. But even with that realization Theron felt the need to complete it. It was fascinating, truly the work of a genius.<p>

It was the work of his father. His sire the successor and predecessor to Keeper Marethari had great renown amongst the Sabre clan. Keeper Mahariel the shepherd, the one who tends to the flock, loved and respected. Powerful, but kind were the words used to describe his father. He was said to have surpassed even Marethari in the ways of the old magic. _Dad pissed lyrium and shit gold._ It was decided very early on by a majority of the clan that Theron did not deserve the name Mahariel. Theron would have gladly given up the title, but there was certain comedy to the annoyance the clan showed at the association between their beloved Keeper and his son the blood mage.

The tome that had been left to him by the Keeper was small in size. The instructions lacked any sort of personal tone. It was dry and nothing more. There was no indication what his father might have been like and honestly Theron preferred it that way. No reason to complicate his work with emotional attachments. Most importantly it promised power; Theron was sure of it. Theron would gather the materials and take what was his. It was as simple as that.

And then there was his second prize; the vile of blood, Alistair had given him as a remembrance of his joining. That did not surprise him; his life was blood. The crimson substance must play a role; it only seemed fitting. Blood, it brought him back to Lothering, but he pushed those thoughts aside. What was done was done and he was far away from that cursed town now.

He realized he had been careless. He had allowed his emotions to get the better of him. It was a mistake. The foes he faced in this grand game demanded better from him. Now was the time to think, to form plans. Not the half-hearted and desperate attempts at plans he had made thus far, but rather plans that would ensure his victory, his survival. The first step in that was to ensure his dominance among those he traveled with. He felt foolish when he realized he had not taken the proper measures for his own survival amidst this group.

Just look at who he did travel with; it was quite possible he was the most normal person there and that was disturbing. A mass murderer of a Qunari he planned to sacrifice to a demon and Theron highly doubted Sten would be compliant in that regard. His **friend** the shape shifting bitch . . . witch who had already attacked him not once, but twice; Theron wondered when she would finally come calling for him to fulfill his part of their deal. Then there was Leliana the one who heard voices in her head; she was a danger to everyone. Finally the templar, his natural enemy, was the one most capable of defeating him. Oddly enough Alistair was the one he held the least fear for; things were less than acceptable. At least the dog seemed loyal enough.

Still, it was time to take precautionary measures. Sten's defeat needed to be assured before he even struck that much he knew for sure. But why stop there? Why only plan for the Qunari's death when he could plan for them all? Theron could defeat them utilizing blood magic and a little preparation, not that he wanted to kill them. These were simply precautionary measures.

He stared at the empty vials before him. They were enchanted with magic that acted as an anticoagulant and a preservative. Blood had a nasty habit of clotting and drying out both of which lessened the effectiveness of his craft. Blood, when used for magical purposes, is a lot like oranges used for juice, both were best freshly squeezed and without pulp. These vials helped with such problems; they were essential tools of his trade.

They were also the best gift he had ever received. They had been a gift from his pseudo-mother figure Ashalle. Blood magic required practice and real practice required people to practice on and for a young Theron that meant clansmen. Ashalle had recognized the danger of Theron's repeated experiments. Blood went bad far too quickly and as a result the young mage was going to be caught sooner rather than later. Ashalle had commissioned and paid for the special set of vials personally and offered them to Theron as a gift. It ensured that he would not have to continually steal samples of blood from the clan. He had received the gift with great confusion and demanded to know why she had done such a thing. His caretaker had told him that the magic he toyed with so easily was an abomination. It was evil, but that she wanted him to be safe regardless. Ashalle was fond of him; she loved him in her own way.

Theron found it to be a most amusing contradiction. In Ashalle's mind there was a disconnection between what he did and who he was, but Theron knew better. _A person is defined by their actions._ Certainly, a person could believe in one thing and do another, but there was a name for that, hypocrisy. And hypocrisy was an action itself. You are what you do. If blood magic was an abomination then by extension and practice so was Theron. Ashalle did not truly accept him. The foundation for her affection was almost as insincere as Theron and yet it was there. Theron could not reciprocate. He did not care for her as a son, he did not love her, and he had even been callous enough to tell her so. Ashalle had taken it well. True love needed no reciprocation. And for that response Theron decided that Ashalle was tolerable.

Their relationship had worked because of her and in spite of him. Ashalle's empathetic nature made her the best possible caretaker. She had saved Theron from himself; she tempered his use of blood in way that would save him from death. She offered control in a world of restlessness.

Theron's fingers moved slowly over the old glass. It cooled his burning hand. _She would have been able help the boy. She would never have turned him into that. Ashalle could have controlled him. _Theron hand squeezed the remaining cold from the vial and ended his thoughts. He would have control from now on.

_Yes, I can do this. Just work slowly, cautiously. _He packed away his materials when he heard Alistair call from the outside.

He left his tent to find his companions all gathered around the central fire pit. They had found a nice secluded spot a few miles outside of Lothering and decided to set up camp. It was a quaint clearing surrounded by tall pines with a nearby pond. The air was growing cold Theron noticed, winter would be upon them soon. It was the hour of twilight now; the hour Theron had very politely asked all them to meet him at to discuss their next course of action. Alistair had wanted to settle their destination before they left Lothering, but Theron had demanded to leave immediately so he followed noticing how they now had two new companions along for the journey.

The Qunari's presence did not surprise Alistair, but Leliana he did not expect nor did he know the reason for Theron's sudden change of heart. Morrigan had demanded answers immediately once they had established camp, but the sister had kept her silence merely stating that she had proven her worth.

Theron looked at all of them in turn. Their expressions ran from one end of the spectrum to the other. The dog was panting happily and begging to have its head scratched. Leliana beamed at him in a way that unnerved Theron. The sister had been particularly nice to him since she joined; Theron suspected some kind of trap because in truth Leliana was the one he feared the most. Alistair gave him a tight nod and small smile that was unsure. Sten's face was completely devoid of emotion, but perhaps there was some annoyance in his gaze. And finally Morrigan looked downright rebellious at having been summoned.

"Hello there my beautiful traveling companions! What are you up to this fine evening?" Theron began, taking a seat near the fire.

"Well I for one am wondering why we left Lothering at a pace that upset even the mabari," there was obvious concern on the face of Alistair despite his jocular tone. "The bitch could barely keep up. I am referring to Morrigan now of course."

"Of course," Theron smiled, while Morrigan considered the possibility of setting Alistair on fire. "And about our unexpected departure well, heh, you see Lothering was about to be attacked by a pack of very aroused mabari! I do not believe we were equipped to deal with such a threat. Do you not agree Alistair?"

"Well I was raised by dogs and I will have you know they were loving parents and would never engage in sexual misconduct," Alistair spoke in an affronted tone, but suddenly seemed to ponder something. "But I disagree. Morrigan is capable of dealing with being sexually accosted by a variety of animals I would assume."

"Far more capable than the grey wardens were in dealing with the darkspawn at Ostagar."

Even the most affable people have certain triggers that when drawn will destroy any semblance of the former affability. Their natural friendliness often pushes their anger to the depths of their mind. Such a concentration of negative emotions can only be held back for so long. So when that trigger is drawn a person's affability can be the difference between and arrow being fired or a holy fire that is the bane of any mage.

As Alistair turned angrily to respond to Morrigan's retaliation, Theron took the moment to jump on Alistair's back. One arm tried to cover Alistair's mouth, but only succeeded in hindering his sight. The other struggled to maintain Theron's hold on him. "Alistair please don't smite Morrigan," Theron managed to say despite his desperate struggle to maintain position.

"I wasn't going to smite her!"

"Are you sure? I won't let go until you promise!" Theron pulled back on his head with the hand that was covering Alistair's eyes.

"I can't smite what I can't see. Besides I wasn't going to smite her!" The words held a tone of disapproval. Did his fellow warden actually expect him to attack so easily?

_Smiting ability dependent on line of sight? Good to know. _Theron detached himself from the former Templar and turned to Morrigan. "And Morrigan please don't piss off the templar. You two need to learn to play nice," Theron ignored whatever sound of disapproval the witch made. "Now would my lovely traveling companions please join me at the fire?"

Leliana was the first to sit taking a spot close to Theron and Alistair despite being disgruntled followed as well. Sten preferred to stand, but joined regardless. Morrigan eventually followed, but voiced her annoyance. "You are the one who summoned us here, Warden. Quit the false pleasantries and tell us the purpose of this meeting. I tire of you all."

"You do not have to be so rude," Leliana spoke; a natural dislike seemed to have formed amongst the two women quickly.

"Would it be your imaginary friend or me you are addressing?" Morrigan answered back easily, making Leliana blush in anger and humiliation. Theron thought he might have to intervene, but luckily the normally silent Qunari spoke.

"I wish to know the purpose of this meeting as well. Is there not darkspawn we could be fighting instead?" The giant demanded.

"Fine, it is better that we get to the point I suppose." Theron sighed and asked Alistair to show everyone the treaties.

The treaties presented three destinations: the circle of magi, the Dalish, and finally the dwarves of Orzammar. Each of the three groups promised soldiers for their army. Alistair also presented a fourth option, Redcliffe. He had learned that the Arl of Redcliffe suspected Loghain's treachery from his meeting with Ser Donall at the inn, but also informed them that he had fallen into a sickness. Theron could see the desire to head to Redcliffe immediately in Alistair's eyes, but Theron had his doubts. Still it was an option.

Once everyone had been brought up to speed on their situation Theron decided to ask their opinion on the matter. Alistair wanted to go to Redcliffe that much was certain, but he strictly refused to outright demand it. It seemed he would be content with whatever Theron decided. Morrigan had scoffed at Alistair mocking him and his inability to accept command despite being the senior warden. Theron quickly defused the situation by asking Morrigan what she recommended.

Morrigan wanted to march straight into Denerim, the capital of Ferelden, and kill Loghain. Attack the enemy head on and then gather the troops in peace. Theron did not tell her how idiotic of a plan it was; attacking a man that controlled all of the country's army when they were only six was beyond foolish. It did, however, help Theron realize something about his friend. Morrigan was rash. She was so confident in her own power that it clouded her judgment. She was no strategist and Theron knew he could use that to his advantage. Theron finally offered that it was a possibility, but Morrigan noted the skepticism.

Leliana had suggested going to find the Dalish seeing as how Theron's obvious connection might secure their help with little effort. Theron complimented her judgment, much to Morrigan's annoyance, but said that with winter coming the last place they wanted to be was in the Brecilian forest searching for a clan that was hidden by Keeper's magic.

Sten did not offer an opinion. Theron finally decided they would continue west since that was the necessary direction to go in any case and that he would decide once he had weighed his options further. Theron wanted to go to Orzammar himself, but refrained from saying so until he was sure of his next move. Theron stalled them when they had started to leave.

"What else is there left to discuss, Warden?" Morrigan asked anxious to leave their company.

"Heh, well, a few things. One we need to set up watch duties and I need to know if you guys require anything. Oh, also cooking duties!" Theron hurried to continue when he saw the dark look in Morrigan's eyes, "By that I mean I will cook. I like cooking."

"I require for you to hold up your end of our deal, Warden," Morrigan's golden stare was fixed firmly on him now. It was what Theron had been waiting for, their demon trade. "But that is a private matter seek me out when you have finished your cooking."

"Oh, having feminine difficulties again? Need a little healing magic to soothe your nausea? Perhaps you are feeling bloated?" Theron teased. The witch merely snorted in disdain and left, heading back to the tent she had set up far from the rest of the camp. Theron also noted with some amusement that Morrigan conveniently forgot sign up for watch duty.

"Is she always such a . . ." Leliana was trying to pick her words carefully, her accent struggling to find the proper word.

"Complete and utter bitch?" Alistair added with great amusement, "Yes, yes she is." Leliana laughed, but did not deny the description. Theron smiled slightly as well, but his gaze turned towards Sten.

That was his real goal, the Qunari. Theron needed to subdue him soon; very soon now that Morrigan had made it clear that she wanted to cash in on her barter. Luckily Theron had a plan. The Qunari would be under his control by tonight. Theron chose to begin now. "So, watch duties for tonight. Sten will take the first. I will take second. Then Leliana and finally Alistair."

* * *

><p>It was dark when Theron finally finished cooking. Darker than it should have been, winter would arrive early, but despite the lack of light and the discoloring of the trees around them that usually accompanied the cold it was calm, serene even. The fire was warm and it was not so cold yet that they must wear heavy furs and most importantly the stew Theron made smelled lovely. It was a light broth made from rabbit and seasoned with garlic, rosemary, shallots, thyme, and even a little red wine courtesy of Leliana. Both Leliana and Alistair had joined by the fire and watched Theron work. The smell had lured them in and their appetites held them. It would be his key in capturing the Qunari and that made the aroma all the more pleasant to Theron.<p>

He had made enough for three bowls one for Leliana, Alistair, and Morrigan. He explained to the Qunari that since they held the first two watches, he would make their meals later as the food would help keep them awake during their shifts. The giant man chose silence as his response. Theron offered the two bowls to Leliana and Alistair and left to give Morrigan her food.

With a bowl of hot rabbit stew and his knife tucked safely in its sheath behind his back Theron greeted Morrigan in her personal camp. He noticed that she had even gone as far as to light her own campfire. The witch truly seemed to want to spend as little time around the group as possible. It was a feeling that Theron could empathize with, but still he knew it was to his advantage to blend in with the others rather than set himself apart. It was the animals that kept themselves on the edge of the herd that were picked off first.

"Rabbit stew?" Theron asked his arm outstretched holding the bowl. The witch raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow at him and Theron rolled his eyes in annoyance. Taking a quick sip from the bowl, Theron said, "See not poisoned. Do I really seem like the type of elf to do such a thing?"

"Yes," Morrigan answered, but took the bowl from him anyway and placed it to the side for now. Now was the time to talk business. The elf owed her something and she intended to make him pay. "In one week I will require you to fulfill your part in our exchange. I trust you will have acquired payment by then?"

"I will have payment ready by tonight. You don't think our new guest is here because I am of a sociable nature do you?"

"I did wonder why you agreed to bring the lunatic along. I am glad to see her presence will be brief."

"Wait, what? I am not sacrificing Leliana to a demon! What kind of monster do you think I am?" Theron asked shocked and whether the surprise was genuine the witch could not tell. "I'm sacrificing Sten," he finished with a smile that seemed proud. It was as if the blood mage expected some kind of praise for the statement. Morrigan frowned; she really would have preferred Leliana's demise to the Qunari's.

"I see and how is it you plan to subdue the Qunari?" Morrigan took a very elegant sip from the bowl; the stew really did smell quite appetizing. Theron waited purposefully for Morrigan to swallow.

"The broth," Theron smiled. The predatory glare Theron received in response made him keenly aware of the fact that the shape shifter was not amused. "Not your broth of course, but I wanted to make my message clear. All four of you could have been dead by now. I just love cooking."

Morrigan did not allow her alarm to show, but it was there. The way in which the blood mage changed temperament so quickly was not left unnoticed. Still there was not a single hint of disquiet in the witch's response; she simply would not allow Theron the pleasure. The witch took another big drink from the bowl before replying. "Perhaps, but still you will have to do better than that if you wish to kill me."

"Kill you? I don't want to kill you," Theron said once again the surprise that entered his voice was of questionable sincerity. "Aside from the Qunari, I don't want to kill any of you."

"And why would that be?"

"You're useful. I need all of you if I am to survive; each of you plays a role. Alistair is the senior grey warden and the most experienced with darkspawn. Leliana has proven to be a very capable archer, and interesting and she has the maker on her side!" Theron laughed at the snort he received from Morrigan in return. "And of course there is you. Your abilities make you the most versatile member of this group. A shapeshifter on my side! Imagine the possibilities! It is why I have gone so far to ensure your cooperation in battle. Tactically it is a must."

"You see my abilities as a tactical advantage?"

Theron simply gave a curt nod and left; he had to calculate the correct amount of sedative to lace Sten's stew with. Morrigan watched him leave. It was a curious thing. Templar's viewed her power as a danger to all. Other mages viewed the ability to changes forms as unnatural and, finally, men in general viewed it with disgust. But this elf, with the calculating stare, simply saw it as an advantage. It was a curious thing; for the second time Morrigan found Theron to be of a sensible disposition.

* * *

><p>Suicide was not an uncommon occurrence among the mages of the circle of magi. It was simply a sad truth and a logical consequence of taking a young mage away from their home and constantly ingraining them with the knowledge that at any moment they could be possessed by a demon. In every mage, no matter how timid, sleeps a tiger and a tiger is not an animal to be caged. The Templar's served a necessary role and that role required the men and women of the organization to be able to mentally with stand the cruelty of reality that came along with the job. Many mages die in the circle and a sad portion choose to meet death by their own hands. It was merely a fact that had to be accepted.<p>

Cullen just wished his peers were less apathetic to such facts. He understood that the others saw him as an idealistic youth who still had not experienced the real horrors of magic. Cullen even agreed with his elder peers. Still to conduct a meeting with returning mages from Ostagar, no matter how urgent the news, right after a successful suicide attempt just seemed tasteless. So Cullen in an act of adolescent rebellion demanded the Knight-Commander allow him to search the shores around the tower in an attempt to find the body. Their precious meeting could be damned. Death had to be accepted, but it did not have to be met with indifference.

Apathy was something Cullen swore he would never suffer from as long as he was a Templar. He owed it to her. Images of her face were reflected in the waters of the lake. Solona Amell had been her name. She was kind, timid, clever, and so very pretty. And Cullen had been smitten with her the moment they had first met. She was also dead.

Solona Amell had been a mage of the circle and like all mages was put through a Harrowing in an attempt to see if she could fight the presence of a demon, a demon that had been forcefully thrust into her mind. It was the dirty secret of the circle that all mages were subject to the raping of the mind because if a mage could survive forced possession then they could survive any lesser attempt at possession.

Cullen had to be present for her Harrowing and when Solona proved incapable of fighting off her demon Cullen had to be present for her death. Cullen would not be like the other Templars. He would not lose his ability to care. It was the least he could do for her memory.

He would remember Anders, the mage who had jumped, because someone should remember him. Lest the world forget the sacrifice every circle mage makes. Cullen did not know Anders very well. He knew stories about Anders the mage who had escaped the tower six times, but Cullen could not claim a personal connection to the eccentric mage. Still he felt shaken by the incident because if Anders could give up on life in the circle than the truth was that any mage could.

Cullen looked at the distant docks that had probably represented freedom for the mage and was stunned to find a man emerging from the waters. "That clever bastard!"

The suicide attempt had in truth been so much more. Cullen told the ferry to take him to the docks on the other side immediately. A tiger had escaped its cage.

* * *

><p>They were alone. Moving the unconscious behemoth had been a struggle even with the help of a very strong sedative and blood magic. Still it had been accomplished, they were too far from camp to be heard, and with Theron's shift coming directly after Sten's shift, Theron estimated he had plenty of time still to work. The only witness to this ritual would be the moon that glowed dimly above them. It should have been simple to summon the demon, offer the Qunari as payment, and arrange a time for the demon to give Morrigan her vision. It should have been simple, but nothing was ever truly simple.<p>

Theron was overcome with the need to wake the Qunari. The need to know why he had slaughtered that farm hold was gnawing at him. The giant lay unconscious on the cool ground, his form crushing the various weeds and flora that inhabited their brown home. A slow spring of blood seeping into the earth ensured Theron's safety. There was nothing to fear the Qunari's blood had been drawn, even if he chose to awaken his prisoner the blood domination spell could not be broken. So why not awaken the beast? Why not satisfy his curiosity? Theron leaned down opting for pain to be the medium for consciousness. Slowly, he pressed the hilt of his knife to Sten's forehead, applying steady pressure to his sinus cavity. He was applying force to that very special spot that caused severe headaches in those that suffered allergies.

The Qunari awoke with a grunt and a mild headache. A new staring contest began as the passive face of the giant gazed up at the much smaller elf. Neither spoke for what seemed like an eternity. Sten did not even try to move and eventually Theron grew tired. The blood mage had to accept that he would never best the man in stoicism. "Heh, umm, well hey there big guy."

"What is meaning of this, Warden?" The follower of the Qun demanded in a tone that was just as passive as his stare.

"Well, you see we were both really drunk and, heh, you have those braids." Theron motioned to Sten's odd hair choice, "I swear I thought you were female when we you know." Theron began making hand gestures that would have made anyone blush in embarrassment, well anyone except the stoic giant. "I swear I was gentle."

"Hn."

Theron felt himself grow immensely annoyed with the Qunari. Anyone else would have reacted, but this infuriating colossus gave him nothing. "Are you always so stoic? Show some damn emotion for once!" The anger radiated from Theron as it became clear, once again, how quickly the elf could jump from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other.

"What is the meaning of this, Warden?" Theron felt the strain of the Qunari fighting back against his hold. The familiar feeling of the muscles in his neck tightening began to give Theron a headache, but the blood held its prisoner. It was growing colder now, both men could smell it in the air, dying leaves fell from the trees as a breeze picked up. It was time for answers and a demon.

"You killed an entire farm hold. You killed children," Theron began his tone becoming the same monotone that Sten's voice usually adopted. "Why?"

"My reasons are my own," Sten's response was calm as ever. It irked Theron that such serenity could be maintained. If there positions had been switched the elf knew he would be begging and offering various favors in return for his life. "If you seek my life in return now then take it. I was prepared to achieve atonement in Lothering with my death and I am prepared now."

"Atonement?" The word felt peculiar as it rolled off of Theron's tongue. "You wish to die as restitution for your crimes?" Pure confusion, not the feigned kind he often offered, graced his face. _He wants to make up for what he did? Why would anyone do that?_ It was simply a fact that one action cannot make up for another. No matter what the Qunari did he could not erase what he had done. You carry your sins to the grave. There is no atonement and Theron knew it was better that way. "Why?"

"Either you have an enviable memory, or pitiable life, to know nothing of regret." Sten's eyes bore into him and the certainty of his being caused Theron to flinch.

Theron had wanted Sten to react, but the more his prisoner spoke the stronger the ache in his head grew. He wished now that Sten would return to his usual silence. "Perhaps, I merely have an enviable life?"

"If you believe that to be true then you simply have a pitiable memory," said the Qunari as he finally gave up in his struggle against the blood that bound him. The dull ache that plagued the both of their necks vanished with the acceptance of fate. Death was not preferable to Sten, but it fulfilled the Qun. And the Qun fulfilled him. "Strike, Warden."

Theron called upon the blood ready to summon the demon. His knife hovering above Sten's temple and yet when he went to strike his hands shook. The contentedness in the Qunari's posture stopped his resolve. This death had been accepted and the defeat acknowledged, but Theron could take no pleasure in it. Theron found it distasteful to give the child murderer what he wanted. The mere idea that he could allow this monster's death to be whole sickened him. For him to die complete was not something Theron would allow. There was a broken child in Lothering who would never find such contentedness. The Qunari would not be allowed this moment. It was not fair.

"I'm not going to kill you. That would be too easy," Theron announced suddenly. The knife opened a fresh wound on Sten's shoulder and Theron collected his power. Theron raised the three vials of blood he had collected from Sten so that the Qunari could see. Theron whispered in his ear, "With these I own you, but I will not kill you. By the time the spell and the sedative wear off we'll be long gone. Do not follow us. Oh, and say thank you, Warden."

"Warden,"

"Yes, Sten." Theron's tone was gleeful at the gratitude he was about to receive.

"You lack conviction. It will be the death of you. I will not allow you to . . ."

"Enough," Theron forced Sten's silence despite his original desire to get a reaction from the Qunari. Theron had gotten his wish Sten was genuinely mad, but it did not satisfy Theron. _This man is nothing more than a headache._ Theron pinched the bridge of his nose. What Theron wanted was silence. "You will listen now Sten. This front of defiance from you is pointless. With your blood I can make you do anything I want."

Theron flicked his captive's forehead, but he received nothing more than a blink in return. "There is really only one thing I want though," Theron snapped. "And it is funny because it is the opposite of what I originally wanted from you." He chuckled a little at the irony of his admission.

The mouth opened at the command of blood and the salt of flesh flavored the tongue. Sten watched unable to do anything more as Theron pricked his own finger allowing the blood to run. "Blood mage got you tongue?" No reaction again from the giant. "Laugh! Damn you. That is another reason I don't like you. No sense of humor," Theron mock pouted.

"Now, I only want one thing from you. I want you to never speak again." Theron inscribed the blood rune.

* * *

><p>The dull pounding in his head was growing stronger and the cool night's breeze did nothing to settle it. The soft crunch of his steps meeting long since fallen leaves seemed to him to be the cracking of bones, the snapping of limbs. <em>I should have killed the Qunari.<em> It was risky to keep him alive, but Theron just could not allow such peace in his death. But what would Sten do? Would he seek revenge; Theron had planned for that. The three vials of blood were safely tucked away in his pouch. If the Qunari did attack Theron could enthrall him immediately without effort. But would Sten come back? _It doesn't matter. I've already won. _He had his blood. One vial for Morrigan's barter, one for his own safety, and one for backup.

What would the Qunari choose? He was free to go anywhere he desired once Theron's spell wore off. _I wouldn't come back. Still he seeks his atonement and it is doubtful that what I just pulled will faze him. Stoic asshole. _It was a good half an hour into his own shift he could see the soft glow of the campfire as he left behind one nuisance behind and met another. Leliana was sitting next to the soft flames that were the beacon of their camp. Her form was covered in a warm glow that softened her features and cast sublime halo around her body. Her hair was of a stronger red than the flames that warmed her, but still that fire only served to accentuate the color. To any other person the sight would have been a marvel, but to Theron it brought only a malaise. She smiled up at him, as she was accustomed to doing.

"I came out a while ago to talk to you Theron. I was beginning to worry you had abandoned us." Leliana said in a tone that showed her jest. "What kept you so preoccupied?"

"Piss break. Heh, I'm starting to feel my age; it just does not flow the way it used to." Theron answered back, the false persona of kindness returning.

Leliana looked unsure, but then laughed lightly. "That is what I like about you." Her face continued to relax in his presence and Theron suddenly felt like he was being measured.

"My struggling prostate is what you like about me?" Theron queried innocently as the fire began to crackle.

"When questioned you hide the truth with self deprecating humor. It is a very kind way to lie to someone. The Maker is happy that you spared Sten." She was kind as she spoke, but to Theron it was a terrible sound.

"You followed me?" A hand moved slowly to retrieve a blade. This thing in front of him, whatever it was, threatened his secrecy.

"No. Never. I trust you completely, Theron. The Maker and I were just chatting. I am glad to hear of your mercy. You do not have to hide your kindness." She suddenly looked up and to her left, muttering something to the air.

"You're just screwing with me now aren't you?" Theron answered unsurely, while Leliana offered a small smile that gave him nothing. "Was there something you wanted specifically?"

"Oh, no I simply desired your company Theron." Leliana began to hum a pretty tune and Theron accepted the answer. He moved to sit close to Leliana, near the fire; he would not allow his discomfort to show. Her light blues smiled as she continued to hum her song. The music was calming Theron admitted to himself and unbeknownst to him the ache that had plagued his head vanished.

Theron realized what she was doing immediately. She was luring him into a sense of tranquility, but to what purpose he knew not. It would have worked except Theron was only truly at peace when he was pushed to the edge. The red head realized she had failed. Leliana frowned at Theron for the first time. "It is truly impossible to put you at ease, is it not? Is there no way to grant your mind peace even for the moment?"

"You could be silent, but that defeats the purpose of us conversing," Theron spoke in a tone that was authentic for the very first time with the lay sister.

Leliana offered a small laugh and stopped her humming. "Do you not enjoy my conversational nature?" Leliana wanted to make an admission, but found it would be dangerous to do so if Theron was not in a placid mindset.

"Yes, but why should you get to ask all the questions?"

"You have questions for me? Well, here I am." Her manner was unassuming, but not so much as to draw attention for the modesty. The response, her very being, it was within the lines of normal conversation, but Theron knew better. The stillest of waters run deep with the most devious of creatures. Underneath the affable and calming persona was a master in the arts of intrigue.

They began a clash of tongues. Engaging each other in vague questions and half answers, Theron realized that whatever Leliana might be, prophetess, abomination, former mental house patient, she was not dull-witted. When two people find themselves engaged in a war of words it is the one who chooses silence first that is the loser.

Theron had learned that Leliana had extreme skill with a bow, short-swords, and knives. Leliana had been a traveling bard for much of her life; that was the only piece of relevant information. He also learned that she had lived in Orlais for a portion of her life. She was extremely proficient in the arts of knife throwing. She was also much better at the game of tongues than he was because all that he had learned about her was useless to him. But Leliana had gotten so much more from him. He knew that despite his careful answers and his guarded expressions Leliana had won this round. He had offered her little and yet he felt exposed in her presence. She knew about Sten that was dangerous enough.

The fire's light cast shadows on the former bard's face and Theron knew that this woman was to be feared. Not in the same way as Morrigan perhaps. Leliana did not possess the same raw power, the same beastly aura. She was more akin to a shadow, ever present, but always obscure. She was the one who would kill without having to strike more than once. Leliana was like him. A kind blue met a cold blue and both were calculating. Theron decided to deal with her now and that would require a change in the game they were playing.

Theron knew it was poor sportsmanship on his part to abandon a game he had started, but his survival required it. He asked if Leliana could teach him how to throw a knife and she happily accepted the role as teacher. The zeal with which she accepted was genuine; it was as if the kindness and interest she offered Theron was real. Theron decided then that the woman was crazy.

Her form was perfect; she possessed a natural dexterity and flexibility that few others were born with. Exact angles, a tight release, and a loose follow through motion that marked the abilities of an expert; five targets had been set up and five perfect bull's eyes had been achieved. Contrary to what Theron had told Leliana he knew how to throw knives and he knew enough to realize that Leliana was simply in a league of her own. _I might actually learn something._

Of course learning was not the actual objective, but merely a potential benefit. No, what Theron wanted was blood. He could not outwit the bard and he most likely could not take her in a direct confrontation, but what he could do was ensure that they were never in a fair fight. It was easy to stage the accident when he was pretending to be the awkward first time student.

A few more demonstration throws and Leliana offered Theron the blade. The first mistake had been made. She moved in close fixing his stance and guiding his throwing arm in a practice motion. She was in striking range. The second mistake had been made.

The muscles in his arm coiled accordingly as he made his real throw. The knife flew, cutting through the air. It flew in the opposite direction of the practice target and grazed Leliana's cheek. The blood flowed freely in contrast to the panicked apologies of Theron. And that was when the third and final mistake had been made. The small glass vial hidden beneath the pure white cloth Theron used to clean the cut had been filled. The pale skin, made lighter by the wound and the cold, stood out in stark contrast to the liquid ruby that traced a finger down the side of the bard's face. The ruby tears dripped in slow succession to the ground from the side of the bard's chin.

The remorse on his face did not match the color and life that washed away his own pallor. Leliana thought for the first time that Theron seemed content and perhaps that was why she was finally able to speak. "I was conscious when you told the Templar how you became a blood mage."

Theron's only stopped cleaning her wound for the briefest of seconds and then continued on. "And?"

The light healing spell he cast stimulating the cells to close her wound tickled in an odd way. She found herself mildly amused with the elf. "You called yourself a monster. I do not believe this to be true. You're a good person Theron; I can tell. The Maker thinks so too."

Theron snorted and finished his spell. "And?"

"And, that is why I am letting you keep that vial of blood you just took from me. Take it as a sign of confidence," Leliana squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

The motion was meant to comfort. A gentle touch and a smiling face; yet the chill of winter traveled down his spine. _This woman is terrifying._

* * *

><p>She was losing she realized as she repositioned her bishop. It seemed she was always playing just to not lose against her. Her eyes, a kind wizened green, met the sick yellow eyes of the witch. They both wore a smile, one carefree and kind and the other empty. Everything about the witch was empty Marethari realized and that was what bothered her the most about Asha'bellanar. Marethari was a Keeper; her role was one of life, one of creation. But the centuries old abomination that she was combating in this game of chess, her role was none. She was empty; she was the abyss. And, Marethari supposed, that was why they got along so well despite being on opposing sides of the board. The attraction of opposites joined them, bonded them. There could be no creation without oblivion and no oblivion without creation. Asha'bellanar responded with her knight. It was now threatening one of Marethari's pawns. Marethari did not like those who threatened her pawns.<p>

"I am surprised to find you so close to the Brecilian, Asha'bellanar," Marethari finally spoke, buying time for her next move.

"I found myself in need of a few birds. So I decided to save them and found myself close to your zone. Oh and for the millionth time call me Flemeth. We know each other too well for such titles, Keeper."

"What birds did you save? Ravens, parrots, or, your personal favorite, pigeons?" Marethari answered laughing at an old joke they shared. She moved a rook to protect the pawn Asha'bellanar had targeted.

"No, they were Hawkes," the older woman continued. "Must you always protect the weakest of pieces? It is the reason you will always lose." Flemeth captured the rook Marethari had offered.

Marethari sat up in excitement for Flemeth had taken the bait. For once, in the great amount of time they had known one another, Marethari felt as though she would win this game Flemeth had introduced her too. "You have always failed to see the potential in others," Marethari's pawn reached the end of the board and was promoted to queen.

"Ahh, yes, enrolling the boy into the grey wardens was a clever trick. Ensuring his safety by way of the blight." Flemeth acknowledged the move, but there was only one elf that had ever bested her in this game and the only thing left of him was a crippled son. The boy was nowhere near his father's prowess and Flemeth had ensured he never would be. Still, Marethari's move had been a clever one and Flemeth found herself at a disadvantage. She recalled her bishop. "You surprised even me by employing the grey ones. I acknowledge the point."

"It was simply a precautionary measure. A way to ensure that we are both able to continue this game." Marethari allowed herself some pride; she had won this round. Her recently elevated pawn put Flemeth in check. "Speaking of continuation, where is your next vessel? Oh, and check."

The wrinkled void began to laugh. The sound made Marethari's skin crawl. The indulgent mien of the elf struggled to maintain its jovial form. "My next vessel? Why don't you know? She's with Theron." Flemeth showed no satisfaction at Marethari's widened eyes. She captured the elf's raised pawn with a pawn of her own. "It is simply a precautionary measure."

Marethari felt her hands shake as she examined the board once more. The victory was not hers to claim. This round was a draw.


	6. Of Demons and Deals

The Lonely Path

Chapter 6: Of Demons and Deals

Sleep deprivation has its drawbacks. For one it was generally not fun to be constantly tripping over yourself when those moments of fatigue finally overtook you. Secondly, it made you drastically unprepared for a surprise attack from a certain Qunari you had drugged, enthralled, injured, and almost sacrificed to a demon for the sole purpose of fulfilling a deal you had made with a swamp witch. A swamp witch who could, and most certainly would, transform into a bear, tear your head from your shoulders, and proceed to defecate down your neck if you did not fulfill your end of said deal. Perhaps that last part was hyperbole, but Morrigan was a cruel woman and Theron had an overactive imagination possibly coupled with some very odd fetishes. Theron tripped once more on the rather flat dirt road they were marching on.

_Should not be a problem. With vial of blood physical threat is incapacitated. Silence ensured via blood rune. Possibility of Qunari alerting Alistair and Morrigan of plans is highly unlikely. Leliana higher risk as an informant, but has made no indication of it. Willingly giving blood to a blood mage as a sign of trust? It is stupid or surprisingly clever. Surprise is the greatest of all magic. Physical threat level is not as significant. Could still inform other two of actions, however. Will have to watch closely. Now, about acquiring other two blood samples. Alistair's the easier of the two to obtain. Frontline fighter, injury likely to happen in combat, will use that. Acquire blood, while providing medical attention. Perhaps I can incite a situation in combat for injury, difficulty minimal to moderate. Morrigan sample. _Theron turned to look at his fellow mage. She glared at his smile.

_Is more difficult to acquire. Shape shifting ability will put her on the front lines occasionally, but those situations unlikely to cause an injury that would require her to call upon me. Remainder of time in combat will be as ranged support, unlikely to acquire significant injury there either. Sedative? No, abilities might confer some resistance to such methods. Strong sedative could be employed. Could also stop heart. _That was the real problem. Theron was planning for the deaths of a group of people he wanted alive. He had no illusions of what would happen to him in a real combat situation if he did not have a proper squad to compliment his abilities. _Plus she would realize what happened after revival. Troubling. Ignore it. Focus on acquiring Alistair's sample first._

Theron still had not decided where to go, but this current journey had been tense and his current state somnolence did nothing to help his skittishness. A lack of sleep could also result in hallucinations and he was fairly certain the scene in front of him was a hallucination. Two durgen'len trying to out run a rather sizable party of darkspawn whilst hauling a cart of goods easily a few times large than their own size seemed unbelievable enough, but it was the constant shouting of "Enchantment! Enchantment!" that made him doubt his sanity.

"Er, I'm not the only one who sees this right?" Theron asked to no one in particular. When his traveling companions nodded at him he quickly turned heel and proceeded to walk in another direction. "Let's just stay out of this one!"

"We cannot just walk away when we are able to help," Leliana voiced her disapproval while grabbing Theron by the collar. "Surely it is the duty of the grey wardens to fight the darkspawn."

"She is right about that," Alistair chimed in despite feeling a slight amusement at the quarrel.

"I was only joking." Theron responded sheepishly, but still tried to wrestle himself free from mother hen's grip.

"T'was a truthful rather than funny joke, yes?"

"Oh you are a riot Morrigan! Just for that we are going to help them." Theron allowed himself to feel victorious at the scowl he received in return. _Didn't see that coming did you witch? Now is as good a time as any for my plan._ "Alistair take Dory and engage the darkspawn directly. Do whatever it takes to draw their attention. Leliana stay quiet and flank them, be quick and efficient, ignore anything you can't kill with two strikes. Morrigan and I will see to the durgen'len. Morrigan provide ranged support when you can, but focus on keeping the durgen'len safe. I will provide healing and combat support for everyone who needs it. Now let's go."

By the time Theron and Morrigan had reached the two pulling the cart Alistair and the mabari had successfully drawn away the enemy. Morrigan unable to find a clear opening for her spells merely circled the dwarves her enhanced senses honed to perceive the first opening that came. Leliana had disappeared, but that was part of the plan so Theron focused on Alistair and the mabari.

Alistair found himself engaged with five genlocks, while Dory had drawn the attention of two very large hurlocks. The former Templar was successfully avoiding the crude small axes of the short darkspawn and what he did not avoid his shield endured. As he successfully blocked an oncoming attack and unleashed a forceful shield ram sending the attacker off balance and into its comrades, Alistair followed with a spin of his sword claiming the arm of another.

Successfully fending off five enemies at once was a feat only the most skilled of warriors could claim. Theron had to admit he was impressed as he watched Alistair fight. The most physically capable and well-trained warrior of their group had nothing to fear from a clash of swords. His templar abilities also ensured him an advantage over any mage, but deceit is bane of all man. Theron closed his eyes focusing his attention to the ebb and flow, the rhythm of life. _Leliana is close to flanking, perfect act now. _Theron activated the mana that was at his domain and cast a spell.

Alistair smiled when he felt the sudden surge of adrenalin flooding his body; quietly he thanked Theron for the assistance. The movements of his five opponents slowed, but his own reaction time doubled as he continued to work through his practiced dance of combat. The first fell, the one he had stolen an arm from. Then the second came soon after as his shield caught the axe under its cruel curve, his sword shot towards the beast's neck and it fell. He took the opportunity to charge a third his mana-enhanced rampage made short work of his targeted enemy, but as he began a turn to block the remaining two Theron's spell ended.

_Sorry Alistair this will only hurt for a little while._

His movements slowed a fraction and his turn became unbalanced by only a slight margin, but it was enough for the darkspawn to land. The small axe dug into Alistair's sword arm and then was ripped out just as quickly. The limb fell limp, but his shield arm rammed the hulk of metal against the genlock's head staggering it. Enraged by the last act of aggression the two darkspawn wrested the shield from his grasp and proceeded to beat him with it. The last sensation Alistair remembered before losing consciousness was the cracking of a rib. Leliana made her attack before the darkspawn could deliver a final blow.

"Morrigan with mabari, finish those hurlocks now. I have to focus on healing Alistair," Theron commanded sounding concerned enough to warrant immediate compliance. While Morrigan, Leliana, and Dory dealt with the remainder of the opposition Theron moved Alistair over to the cart and began to work on Alistair's injuries. His pale hand drew a vial from his pouch and gathered fresh blood from Alistair's wounded arm. _And with that no need to worry about Alistair. _The mana pooled in colored hands and then washed across Alistair. The axe wound was easiest to heal; Alistair's armor had taken a great deal of the damage. The purple swelling that had begun to form receded, deflating back into itself and with extra effort Theron managed to reset the cracked rib.

Leliana was the first to rejoin them she breathing quickly the excitement of battle not fully drained and her short flaming hair was disheveled, but she had no signs of immediate injury. "Will he be alright?"

"Arm will be perfectly fine doubt a scar will even form. Sustained a cracked rib. Was able to seal with some effort; there will be heavy bruising and general discomfort. But everyone's favorite Templar will be just fine," Theron concluded offering a smile that was present for other reasons. "Best to let him sleep for a while."

At the end of his diagnosis and when witch and dog rejoined them the older of the two durgen'len offered his thanks. "You have done me and my boy a great kindness, doubtless we would have rejoined the stone had you not intervened. You have the undying thanks of Bodahn Feddick and his son Sandal. Say thank you Sandal."

"Thank you," The slow-witted boy chimed obediently, "Enchantment?"

Theron entertained them with a smile, "Why saving damsels and durgen'len are what I do best. There is always a cost, however . . ."

"Theron! Must you demand a reward? As a grey warden fighting darkspawn is your job," Leliana scolded, while Theron sheepishly scratched the back of his head."

"Oh, no your friend here is perfectly right to ask for compensation," Bodahn saved Theron from further reprimand. "But is it true? Are you really a grey warden?" Bodahn continued at Theron's nod, "If so I think I have a deal that would be of great benefit to us both and of course I do have your promised reward. I only ask that you be willing to hear my offer first."

Deals were the dominion of demons and blood. Theron felt the silent pull of that which was his by right despite not believing that the half-man would have much too offer. "Alright then let me hear your bargain."

"In blighted times such as these it can be dangerous for a merchant such as myself to travel alone and I have my boy to worry about as well" Bodahn continued seeing he had the mage's rapt attention. "I can think of no safer way of travel amongst darkspawn than on with a grey warden. And if you were to allow us to accompany you, we could most certainly offer food and clothing for free. Also a discount on any of my other fine wears."

The intoxicating pull of signing the deal overcame Theron. He offered his hand still tinged with Alistair's blood in the traditional form of agreement and as Bodahn returned the offer Theron's nail scraped skin and drew red ink. The deal had been signed. "We'll be great friends I think, Bodahn! Now about that reward."

"Ah, and your reward is this." Bodahn handed Theron a rod that was inscribed in a language he did not know, but the mana and power in it was clear. Bodahn offered his explanation, answering Theron's obvious curiosity. "It is a control rod for a Golem."

* * *

><p>The taste of rust bit into the tongue and disrupted the dream. The brisk chilly afternoon winds did nothing to soothe ache of previously sedated muscles that had made a bed of the hard forest floor. Sten rose from his slumber still dazed, but that did not hinder his dash. The taste of blood colored the tongue. He had finally been granted movement after what the Warden had done to him and he would make the most of it. There were no tracks to follow and no way to know where he was, but he would find the Warden and make him give back the blood. The taste of blood colored the tongue.<p>

It made Sten want to vomit and when he finally came upon a stream of drinkable water he quenched his thirst trying to free himself of the taste, but it did nothing. He chewed on sharp greens to rid the taste, but still it lingered. The birds chirping around him mocking his own mute voice frustrated his normally stoic demeanor. He would have growled, but ironically the mage had silenced him. He no longer had a voice to call upon as long as that wretched taste lingered. But this panic did not serve the Qun well. Sten sat down calming himself and clearing his mind of distraction. A breath in and a breath out brought clarity. Whatever spell the mage had cast could be undone and his blood could be retrieved he simply needed to find him. Where would the Warden go? Breathe in and breathe out.

And then he remembered. Foolishness on the Warden's part to tell Sten his travel plans if he wished to abandon him. Five destinations the Brecilian Forest, Denerim, Redcliffe, Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi, but that was too many to choose from comfortably. Breathe in and breathe out. He remembered the Warden had dismissed Denerim and the Brecilian. It was also safe to assume by his apprehension that Redcliffe was not the path he would choose either. Orzammar or the Circle and then it became clear. Lake Calenhad surrounded the circle. It had been where he had lost Asala, his soul and marked the beginning of his fall from the path of the Qun. Even if he did not find the Warden there perhaps the circle would have a key for his shackles. His path would lead to the circle the Qun demanded it.

First he needed to find out where he was and the best way to do that would be to find a main road. Breathe in and breathe out. Off in the distance he thought he heard the sound of carts. He was right he walked further down the road with other travelers unable to ask them where the road leads. So he listened. Rumors of darkspawn overtaking Lothering completely were whispered. He was supposed to have achieved atonement there, but the words of the Warden had turned him from the correct path.

Sound proved only to stifle him more. So he used his eyes. A road post named the road as the Imperial Highway and next to it the arrow was labeled Lake Calenhad. Convenient. He turned against the other travelers and made his own path pushing aside the fearful humans that were not fast enough to get out of his way.

Sten would have his soul and his voice back before the end. And as for the Warden he would learn regret. What a pitiable life.

* * *

><p>Anders liked being chased. He almost liked it as much as the actual escape attempt. There was a thrill in trying to outsmart and out maneuver the trained men and women of the Chantry. What he did not like, and most people would not, was almost being consumed by the white flames of the Maker. It might ruin his feathery pauldrons that he loved so much. "You did not just try to smite me!" The feathery mage exclaimed at the lone Templar that had some how learned of his escape. "I swear to the Maker if you've singed even the tiniest portion of my attire I will have justice!"<p>

"I was not aiming for you. Only to block your path," Cullen said looking very tired. He had meant to catch Anders back at the docks of Lake Calenhad, but the rogue mage had proven far cleverer than that. For two days and two nights and the majority of the current day he had tracked and chased Anders. Cullen knew he was going to be in trouble. Why hadn't he sounded the alarm the moment he saw Anders emerge from the water? That was right because he did not want Anders to be punished. The process of tranquility was a necessity, but a terrifying one and, no doubt, the punishment this mage would receive for his seventh successful escape. But now he had no choice, but to catch Anders and turn him in otherwise he might be the one punished. His order must have noticed his prolonged absence and doubtless the ferry would tell them he had ordered crossing. "All I wanted to do was help you and now the Templars have probably labeled me a deserter!"

"Oh, really? Now that is funny," Anders laughed to show he meant it. "And I do not want you help. I want my freedom."

Anders observed the Templar. His pursuer was tired from running in that heavy suit of armor for so long and without break or a real meal. It was rule number one in a mage's strategy to combating a Templar. If you cannot defeat them quickly employ hit and run tactics. Anders had done a very good job of running so far, but now was the time to hit. He turned away from Cullen to run knowing the man had little left.

"If you run my next holy smite will be aimed at your back." The Templar did not seem to be joking, but it was hard to tell with his labored panting.

"Now that is not a nice thing to say," Anders responded, but suddenly summoned forth a spell of oil that covered them both and a majority of the ground beneath them. "Still going to use that fire of yours?" Anders taunted seeing the fear in his eyes, "No then how about I use mine?" Mana twisted in Anders hand bringing forth his own flame.

"No don't!" Cullen threw himself aside in a last attempt at desperation to escape the blast range, but knew he would not prevail.

And then nothing happened. Anders was off once more and Cullen thought he heard him shouting, "I was not aiming for you. Only to block your path!"

Cullen sighed as he returned to his feet. He was going to receive great punishment from the Knight-Commander. Anders had escaped onto the Imperial Highway. "Maker, please help me catch him!" Cullen continued his chase.

* * *

><p>The control rod had not worked. The journey had been made all the way to the village of Honnleath where the durgen'len had promised his reward would be found. A grand reward it was standing a fair eight feet tall, by his estimation. Its mass of strong stone was freckled with sharp crystals that were clear as water. But a Golem without a control rod is just a statue.<p>

They had fought through darkspawn of all kinds to reach the prize. Hurlocks and genlocks, archer and swordsmen and mage, had torn the village asunder, rent house and home, and left many villagers hanging from the remainders of their small community. Smoke from burning corpse and wood tried to choke their battle through the village, but still they made it to their prize. Their enemies fell despite one of their own still injured, but Alistair had fought through the pain, his naturally remarkable constitution holding the bulk of their oppressors at bay along with the mabari. Leliana flanked and unleashed arrow after arrow, Morrigan unleashed a maelstrom of mana, and Theron healed. But when all was done the activation words did not stir the golem into his service. _Dulaf fucking Garn, Bodahn will regret this._

Theron had wanted to return immediately to the one, who had not held his end of the deal, but Leliana had insisted on looking for survivors and that searched had led them to an underground chest of all things mana. Wilhelm was the name of the root that grew beneath the village. Whatever this mage had been up to it became quite clear the further they descended into his cellar that he was the original owner of the golem. And whatever experiments had been performed in the dark recess of his lab was of a demonic nature. Theron could smell the desire that was being held there.

Stone pillars that held up the ceiling marked the central base of the great underground cellar, but the ceiling itself was beginning to crack. The brown sky that was held back by the stone could be seen and the earthy rain threatened to fall. This place was old and this Wilhelm must be dead or dying, but as they continued in they found life of the twisted and corrupt variety.

Darkspawn railed against a barrier of mana that was in constant alteration of deepest purple and brightest blue. It held against the battering of steel. Behind that barrier was the remainder of the village's people and it seemed Theron would have to play the hero once more. They were able to take the darkspawn by surprise, as the beasts were so obsessed with trying to break through the barrier. A large portion fell to Leliana's arrows and Morrigan's magic before they had even armed themselves against them. The remaining few saw Alistair's blade at their fall.

As they secured the village people one came forth as the leader asking for further help. He released the barrier and named himself Matthias. He was the son of the mage Wilhelm and admitted to them that his father had been the previous owner of the golem. A golem that had killed his previous owner, he warned. Theron blanched at that, but he would not be dissuaded from what was bargained to be his. The deal must be fulfilled.

Matthias knew the true activation phrase for the golem, but he wanted something in return. His young daughter had ventured too far into the shadow of her grandfather's secrets and threatened too free something that had been caged so long ago. Down in the caverns Wilhelm had trapped a demon. Theron could smell the desire.

Theron smiled so many promises could be fulfilled. He offered to find the missing child in return for the golem. He bid Leliana and Alistair to stay with the villagers for protection, but told them that Morrigan would help him look for the girl. Demons were an enemy best faced by a mage and for what Theron had to do, the less people the better. Morrigan frowned at Theron's smile, but followed.

The two mages made their descent going further into the underground vault Wilhelm had built. It was no longer correct to call this place a mere cellar. The caverns were sparsely fashioned for living and everywhere amongst the walls and ground rose crystals of all size. Red, blue, green and all translucent; some were bigger than his head and others smaller than his nails. They also held a hum of mana only audible to the mage. As they continued downward towards the demon's cage Theron would stop and examine the crystals occasionally stealing one.

Morrigan grew irritated with Theron's inspections. "Explain to me warden, why it is we are searching for that fool's child? Could not you have simply forced that spineless twit to give you the phrase." Her foot was tapping impatiently as Theron turned to look at her.

"But Morrigan this is all for you! It is what you wanted," Theron said brushing the dirt from his hands.

"For me? What I wanted?" An eyebrow was raised and arms crossed themselves.

"Well in part, I do have to honor the bargain," Theron spoke softly. "And, yes, this will fulfill something you wanted. But let's talk about that. What do you want? You don't have to be here despite Asha'bellanar's orders. You are strong enough to flee. What do you want?" Theron's words issued an unspoken challenge and he knew Morrigan would match him. She had too much pride and power not to.

"What I want, Warden. Is to see mountains, visit oceans, and step into its waters. I want to experience a city rather than see it in my mind," Morrigan answered with a longing in her voice. "I want the option to choose my path; the ability to control my fate. What I want, Warden, is to be . . ."

"Free," Theron finished for her, realizing that perhaps she was as much a prisoner to her mother as he was to his Keeper. They were similar, both seeking power to overcome their captors and the faintest glimmer of idea entered unknowingly in Theron's mind when he finally grasped how alike their goals were. Perhaps they could help each other; a relationship built on mutual and equivalent exchange to further each other's goals. They were friends after all.

"Yes, 'tis good to see that you are capable of understanding this. Perhaps . . . we will be able to work together," Morrigan answered slowly and without any of the usual condescension; there was even something approaching kind in her tone. "T'would seem you are not entirely incompetent, merely partially." And then the bitch was back. "Now why in this blight forsaken world did you agree to help those foolish villagers and why must I be dragged along?"

"I know how much you love playing the hero?" Theron picked up another of the strange crystals examining it and putting it away for later. He decided to answer Morrigan before she became impatient, "In truth? My week is almost up and you desire payment, no? Well, what better deal to make then with a demon that is already in need? Freedom comes at great cost and we shall offer it. You will have your vision today. I always uphold my end of the deal."

"That is surprisingly clever, but why go to such trouble for what is a simple trade. I thought you knew how to handle a demon," Morrigan questioned not so uninterested. "And whatever do you plan to offer? Your Qunari has fled. Lest you have forgotten."

"You are observant, but you will see the offering soon enough I suppose. You are also ignorant of the deals of demons." Theron held his hands up in a placating manner when they began crossing a narrow bridge that allowed them passage over a gorge. The gorge extended endlessly into the dark depths with no light apart from the grand crystals that shined in the black. "I do not mean that as an insult mind you. Your mother never taught you the rules of such a trade, doubtless, because you never had needed to call upon extra power. You are simply too powerful to need such allies and the time expended on those lessons would have been a waste."

The veiled compliment seemed to appease the witch for the moment. Theron continued, "I have no such claim or prowess. But here are the rules taught to me by my Keeper. The entities of the fade come in, let's call them flavors. Rage, Hunger, Sloth, Desire, and Pride are the most commonly known and dealt with. It is important to know which role each should be used for."

Theron plucked another loose red crystal from the crumbling earth. "For the purpose of trade Rage is far too volatile such entities attack on sight. Hunger is more workable, but they require constant nourishment, constant payment, and if not fed they will attack much like Rage. At best a deal with Hunger is a zero-sum game; you have to constantly give something to get anything. Sloth is better still, more likely to talk than attack, but it has no rules. They will give up a contract as readily as they agree to it if they grow bored." Theron continued seeing the inklings of interest in his companion. "Desire is best, willing to talk rather than fight, and they always seek something. In my experience they also have an odd honor code. Desire is never the first to break a deal."

"So demons of desire are best simply because they have the desire? Their ability to be appeased makes them negotiable, 'tis an easy concept to grasp. But what of Pride demons they are said to be the most like man," Morrigan asked.

"Demon it is such an odd term the more I hear it. The Dalish do not give such negative connotations. They are all just spirits to my people. But, yes, that is why Desire is best for trade. As for Pride, well the first rule Keeper Marethari ever gave me was . . . do not fuck with Pride, **ever**. Heh, she put it in more eloquent terms, but the sentiment was there," Theron finished his lecture smiling a smile that was not so false. The school of blood had always interested him and Morrigan was the first person he had ever encountered that shared that interest even if she had no desire to practice the art herself.

"And, how, is it that you know the demon held below is one of desire?" Morrigan asked the last question on her mind.

"You can't tell?" Theron smile became oddly baffled, "It smells like desire. The nose knows, heh!"

Morrigan frowned she could smell nothing and had she the desire; she could smell like a wolf. They finished their descent in comfortable silence. As they entered the chamber that housed Wilhelm's demon they saw a grand puzzle inscribed with magical runes. A spout of fire poured from one puzzle piece to another, but it did not hold the mage's attention. At the bottom of the steps was the daughter they had been sent to find playing with a cat.

Theron spoke to the young girl, but it was the cat that answered.

* * *

><p>As a general rule the truly ancient, ancient as in present mere seconds after the event simply known as the beginning, demons of the fade did not like having to converse with mortals. They liked pulling the cosmic strings of their mortal marionettes, surely. And it was true that the younger and more desirous entities of the fade did take great pleasure in their mortal exploits, but the ancient ones did not.<p>

They had a certain pride.

It was not that they viewed themselves as inherently superior; in truth they were envious of mortals as all demons were. Every being of the fade suffered the same envy. The mortal world had the one thing the fade did not, a physical presence.

The fade was a realm of mana, will, and thought. It was a cosmic maelstrom of everything wonderful, strange, and most importantly intangible. One could create anything and that made the creation absolutely meaningless because no matter how wonderful your imagination or how strong your will the thing being created could be undone with just a thought. In the fade there was cause, but no real, sustainable effect. The old adage of having ones head in the clouds hit far too close to home for any ethereal being; thought was indeed lighter than air. Still at least the atoms and molecules of gas that formed the air existed; at least it could still have an effect. A gust of wind could blow away a sand castle, but a sand castle could not be thought away. Matter matters and there was no matter in the fade. Demons will admit the inferiority of their realm in comparison to the mortal counterpart.

Superiority complexes were not why these ancient, eldritch, constructs of will dislike their mortal interactions. They disliked such social activities because they tend to be quite awkward. It is not pleasant to watch a being lose their sanity; even for the most malicious of demons. And mortals always went insane when they summoned old beings. The mind is simply too rational to be able to handle the sensory assault that came along with meeting the truly ancient.

Put in another way; can the mortal mind perceive something that exists in four dimensions? No? Well the oldest pride demons can and that is the problem. The physical world is bound by a set of logical rules, a set of laws, and the beings that inhabit that world have developed in a way to adhere to and more importantly perceive those rules. The fade has no such restrictions. Neither do the old demons for they are too proud for such limitations.

It must be stated once more to enforce the importance this statement; the oldest beings of the fade do not enjoy being summoned by the youth of mortals. So when this particular hoary horror felt the twisting of mana summoning the foolish mage into the domain of pride a long suffering sigh was heard throughout the fade and in the dreams of every dreamer. As the entity of hubris watched the mage slowly materializing and the mana used for the summoning continuing its reaction yearning to finally reach its point of stabilization, the memories of the entity's most recent mortal interactions came to the forefront of its unnatural mind.

Once he, the term he is simply used as a convention of convenience since beings of numerous dimension and infinite strangeness have no need for limitations such as gender, was mistakenly summoned by a group of mages from a circle of little importance. In truth the summoning had been a complete accident. The mages had gathered in a celebratory orgy in a way only caged and repressed creatures were able. Drink and lust stained the stoned halls in which they reveled. Mana and will clouded the air. And soon both were replaced. Where drink and lust had stained, what mana and will had clouded, Pride would cleanse. The fade took the place of physical reality.

Upon seeing the entity of varied dimension the males entwined in there lust ceased their thrusting, finished or not. Their hunger vanished, for man cannot look upon a god without sacrifice. Their female counterparts in contrast felt their appetite grow because to experience a god left them with a boundless desire that could not be quenched by man. The men castrated themselves offering chastity and fidelity. The women pressed their bare forms against him offering body and lust. So it was with women grinding, much like a dog against a leg, and men pelting him with their severed manhood that the demon banished the party back to their mortal world. The event had been entirely awkward for the old pride demon.

_To feel the strange will incur a cost. _Upon returning their sanity served as payment.

Another time he had been summoned, purposefully, by a blood mage with a thirst for power nigh unquenchable, but quench it Pride did. All he asked in return from the maleficar was for her to look and see that which no mortal eye can. And look she did, but see she could not. The mage tore eye from socket and devoured each instrument of sight, slurping it down like an oyster from its shell. All the while, the woman muttered, "I hunger for sight that is blind." Soon the mutterings became shouts. The ravings continued until her ears bled and throat gave out. Two of the five senses offered as payment, but still it came short of the full price. The demon returned her to the mortal world

_To look upon the strange will incur a cost. _Upon returning her sanity served as payment.

And then of course there was the one who had come so close to understanding. The one this old pride had taken a name from. The mortal did not seek power, but chance had not granted him this meeting either. The mage was of all those qualities that others proclaimed to be admirable and sought nothing more than true understanding. That journey brought him to pride that dwelled in a realm of more than three dimensions. Pride watched in tedium. The demon knew what was to come next and merely hoped that it did not involve severed reproductive organs being thrown at him.

Purple deformed skin, scales like that of a dragon, the body of a bipedal and easily twelve feet high, long yellow teeth, and multiple bottomless black pits for eyes was the form the mage gazed upon when he looked at the demon. Still there was so much more to perceive. It was a fold in the form, another direction outside of the three that ruled. The mage spoke not meaning to be heard, but the demon listened, breath held. The mortal was so close. Left to right . . . forwards and backwards . . . up and down . . . the three dimensions give our location, but what if . . . movement at right angles to each and every one of those three directions . . . what if? The mortal was so close.

The mage fell to the ground drawing in the sand his mind had willed into the fade. A square made into a cube and another cube drawn inside it. Connecting the lines at right angles between the two cubes took the mage as far as he could go into understanding. The drawing was a two dimensional depiction of a four dimensional object made to be understood from the perspective of a three dimensional mind. The mage named the drawing, **Tesseract**. The mortal was so close.

And then the mage's head exploded. The pride demon actually felt a twinge of sorrow at the mortal's failure. In his honor the demon took the name Tesseract as his own and returned the mage to his realm.

_To understand the strange will incur a cost. _Upon returning his sanity served as payment.

Tesseract's many interactions with mortals taught him a valuable lesson about the role fear plays in survival.

Mortals fear what they do not understand and when confronted with something they can never understand the sanest course the mind can take is the path of insanity. This fear of the unnatural drove them insane. Fear protected a mortal's existence. It was a defense mechanism. Because if a mortal could understand more than the laws of their existence, if they could perceive more than their laws, and thus become something more than their laws then they could no longer be allowed to exist within those laws.

If perception is reality and a mortal perception becomes broken then by extension that mortal's reality shatters as well. Fear protects the mind of every mortal. At least that was what Tesseract believed until he met an elf named Merrill.

* * *

><p>"Really the cat talks and you don't find that strange at all, little Amalia?" Theron's voice took the kind of note a teacher would have when trying to impose a simple lesson upon his pupil. Morrigan rolled her eyes in annoyance at the sudden kindness her fellow mage was showing.<p>

The young girl's face took a distraught note for the briefest of seconds before she vigorously nodded her head no. Behind her the cat's eyes were glowing a deep purple that confirmed Theron's suspicions. The demon was slowly worming its way into the girl's mind.

The cat stretched, looking mildly pleased and the voice that came from it was a taunting and attractive sound. "Amalia will not distrust me handsome elf. Her heart has been given to me."

_Well that just won't do. _His movements were quick from years of practice and he opened his wrist before anyone could act. The spell he cast on Amalia was successful. The girl had become his thrall and when the demon possessing the cat realized it was far too late, Amalia had escaped and been forced by blood to return to her father. Theron felt laughter rise in his chest as the cat stalked angrily as a lion would before its meal. But the demon was only a cat and a caged one at that. "You may have held her heart with your sweet words, but by blood her body and mind are mine. You can stop the fake stalking we both know you are trapped. But that can be changed if you are willing to deal?"

The cat slowly lay down and behind it the true form of Desire materialized. The body was female supple and soft with sizable assets accentuated by perfect curves. But its true nature could not be hidden. Hair of purple fire burned between long sharp horns that sprung from its pleasing face. The eyes were black pits and from its graceful curves sprouted the whip of a tail. Desire is both alluring and wicked at once. "You come here and steal away the first chance of freedom I have encountered in an age and you think I will trade?" The question was spoken in a tone that did match the incredulity of the inquisition. "You are a bold mortal indeed. I like the forceful ones. Tell me, how would you handle me?" Desire's clawed hands glided over its purple-grey body squeezing itself in both promise and jest.

Theron finally did release the laugh that had built up within him. "Yes, yes, you'll sleep with me if I free you. Enough with the theatrics, I'm not interested in such a fleeting deal," he chuckled, but the demon persisted in touching itself.

"Desire is the best to deal with? Hmm, I cannot imagine how you ever _came _to such a conclusion," Morrigan mocked them both.

"Your friend, she sounds . . . jealous," the demon laughed tauntingly and the sound was almost too pretty. "But of course I have no preference and I do not mind sharing. And for my freedom I could be _very_ generous. Perhaps the three of us?"

"Morrigan?" Theron asked in false innocence.

"NO." Morrigan scowled, the warden was enjoying himself too much for her liking.

"Well, there you have it. It would seem your deal is insufficient," Theron snickered, while Desire pouted cutely and crossed its arms in a blatant attempt to bring an emphasis to its already noticeable assets. But Theron paid the action no notice as something came to his mind. Theron turned to Morrigan and despite the difference in height he seemed to look down upon her. "Doubtless you have a deal that would satisfy all, Morrigan?"

It was some unknown challenge the witch knew and one he had no right to demand of her. And yet Morrigan could not deny it. She could crush both of them if she willed it, but she found herself wanting to meet the Warden on his terms and best him at his game. Bold and reckless it would be to accept, but those were traits that had always defined her. "Naturally. Demon here are the terms," Morrigan spoke as she strode confidently towards Desire. They were almost touching, but just a step away. "For the next two seasons you will give me the talent of foresight. Today shall mark the first vision and from then on you will give another whenever I deem necessary to summon you. And in return we will grant you your freedom." Morrigan stood defiant in the face of Desire's playful stature, both puffing out their chests as if to out do the other in size.

Theron would have laughed had he not been so disappointed. But Desire had no call to hold back its own disdainful amusement and it laughed slowly. A sound of mocking sweetness worked to taunt and attract. "Hmm, your naiveté in the matters of the deal are what keep me from spitting on your exquisite face. How I long to teach you and strip you of such inexperience." The tongue of a snake glided over full lips before Desire spoke again, "But you truly think I would give nearly half a years worth of servitude for a momentary freedom. It is a blessing that you are beautiful, it will make up for your lack of cunning." Desire ran a wicked claw playfully down the jaw line of the witch. Morrigan's arm shot out around the demon's neck. The difference in power became clear, but not all contests are waged on strength alone.

"Look here demon I will not be mocked," Morrigan growled the mana around her flickering, her anger making itself known. Her grasp tightened as the demon smiled ever more seductively with the increasing pressure, as if it were enjoying the experience. Theron pulled them apart having witnessed enough.

"As . . . sweltering as that was," Theron spoke as he finally pushed the two away and placed himself squarely between the two. "We do not choke those we want help from Morrigan. Especially when such an uneven deal is offered." As he looked back at his companion the disappointment in his stature was evident.

Morrigan had failed whatever unknowable challenge the blood mage had issued to her. It was nonsensical; the Warden was disappointed in her for not offering a fair deal? And even more ridiculous his disappointment managed to nuisance her. She had no call to appease him. Theron turned his back to her facing the demon and she cursed them both.

"Well now, heh, I apologize for that but I have a deal of my own that I think you will find more suitable. If you are still willing to listen," Theron said scratching his head, while he waited for the answer. He walked closer to the demon.

Desire beamed at him its voice purring, "Yes, I think I would like that. No doubt what you offer will prove to be more _doable_."

Theron shook his head smiling only slightly. _You'd think we would be past the innuendo by now._ "Our needs remain the same. Foresight for the turn of two seasons whenever Morrigan calls for it."

"And in return?"

"And in return I will offer you the one thing you want even more than freedom from this cage. I will offer you a foothold in the mortal world."

"Truly?" The ecstasy that had entered the demon's voice was shameful in its impurity. Desire circled him moving to his back and placing its feminine form against him. Desire rested its chin on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, the breath doing funny things against it as she spoke, "You would truly let me inside you?" A tongue flicked playfully and Desire brought itself face to face with him once more and smiled coyly. "And here I thought it would be the other way around. I had intended to let you inside me for my freedom."

Theron took a step away from its charms. "And it persists with the innuendo! I get it you're a being of desire, but can you give it a rest already? And I'm not offering you a place in **any** mind, demon."

Anger met Theron's denial of entrance. "You are terrible tease elf. Mortals should not toy with forces they do not understand. Reveal your true terms before I grow impatient."

Theron smiled darkly at his success. _It is desperate; I've nearly won the game now. _Theron reached into the pouch that hung on his hip and pulled forth a vial of blood. "I am offering you a foothold via the blood of _this_ mortal."

Its playful nature returned quickly as it answered, "But I'd rather have you my big elf. And what right do you have to another being?"

"A Qunari is far bigger than me I promise and as for my right? Your kind was willing to take the slaves of Tevinter blood magi as payment as long as the slave was bought and lawfully owned, yes?" Theron waited for the demons assent. "Well I claimed my Qunari by the right of conscription that is given to all Grey Wardens and I have determined that this is the best way he can serve our order against the blight."

Morrigan looked at the red vial and then to the one who held it. She could not have believed this had been his plan. The full depravity of her fellow mage's deviousness finally open to her, she found herself equal parts anxious and captivated. His plan was almost perfect. What else had he schemed in the dark? Morrigan was impressed, but ever more suspicious as well. "That was why we abandoned the Qunari? This was your plan since Lothering? You weren't going to merely offer his life as payment, but his mind?" Morrigan regretted the surprise she allowed to color her voice.

Theron's smile was as completely genuine as it was dark while Desire laughed in euphoria the way a lover would. "What's wrong _friend_? Did you not anticipate that?" Theron engaged himself once more with the demon. "But Morrigan is wrong in one thing. I am not giving you a place in any mind. Look at the vial. That amount of blood would buy you a week at best."

Suddenly the laughter stopped and Desire bared perfect white teeth in threat. "You promised a foothold in this realm!"

"And a foothold you shall have. This is what I propose. You will give Morrigan her first vision now, and then I will free you from your cage. With the blood you can then use it to feed off of the spirit of the Qunari. Slowly stealing mana and strength until you are able to become a Shade and then you will have a foothold independent of anyone." Theron enjoyed the look of disgust at the mention of a Shade he received from Desire. _Almost there._

"You think I would want to become a hideous Shade?" It spat making its displeasure clear. "Such is the form of Sloth. There is nothing more repulsive to one such as I!"

_Perfect. _"Well then try this. Do as I have said. Feed and gather strength, but seek out the Qunari on your own. I would point out that you have an able disguise right over there," Theron said pointing to the cat still asleep. "Then when you have become a shade kill the Qunari and take his body as your own." _Solving my problem completely. _Theron continued knowing the demon was his. "Become something that is the realm pride! Something only one in a thousand Desires have ever achieved! Become a Revenant!" _Sold._

"Yes! This foothold for your visions it is an satisfactory deal indeed," Desire said accepting the deal. It stopped for a moment. "But what do you want in exchange for releasing me from this cage?"

"Consider that a gift from me to you."

"But there must always be an exchange."

"Well I feel as if you know me quite well now. I'm sure you'll think of something suitable," Theron assured the demon shaking his vial of blood as a hint. He then turned to Morrigan in further suggestion and said, "Isn't that right my friend?"

"I care not," The witch said impatiently. "We have lingered too long let us perform the vision now, lest the ground swallow us whole for our inaction."

Desire took the words with a smile and a small nod. It beckoned them forth and they began the ritual.

* * *

><p>The taste was of cold wet dirt, not quite mud, but not fine enough to be called dry sand. The earthy grit was quickly spat out, while red stained hands dragged bitter green blades of grass against white teeth. Upon a small recess surrounded by oaken trees that reached endlessly towards the sky, a soft sprinkle of cold water penetrating through the canopy of boundless wood fell. A head was lifted from the ground to gaze at what had been summoned. Before Pride she gazed, but still unable to do much more.<p>

Why had she fallen?

She had become accustomed to falling face first into the ground. She had always been a rather clumsy girl and that would not change, but usually falling indicated that she had said something wrong and all she had said so far was, hello. So many questions there were. This was the fade she did not have to fall if she did not will it. So why had she fallen? Why had her mind created such a familiar landscape, when in the fade, any number of wondrous scenery could be conjured? Such things were dependent on the dreamer after all. Was her imagination so habitual? Why see normality when she could see the numinous? There was so much more to see and all it took were eyes courageous enough to look.

And why before she had gazed at Pride had she fallen? And then she giggled understanding; it was such a silly answer.

"Oooh, Pride before the fall. I get it! My subconscious is so clever!" Merrill cooed in amusement. Finally she was able to understand. She now stood ever bold in Tesseract's presence. She waved enthusiastic red copper hands at the eldritch construct. "I have a deal and it is sweet I promise you!"

"A mortal comes unafraid and a little elf at that?" The voice was strong and the echo that followed resounded throughout the landscape. The branches of the ever-stretching trees shook and they no longer seemed endlessly tall. Leaves fell as if to bow to the being. Merrill came to the realization that this was pride given sound.

"What is there to be afraid of?" Merrill asked in true earnest. "I'm Merrill by the way, is there something I should call you by? Ser Demon? Mr. Pride? I've never done this before. To be honest, I'm a little nervous. Oh, I'm babbling now aren't I? So sorry I'll shut up now!" Her foot toyed with ground, making circles, as she looked down a little embarrassed by her behavior. No longer was there a soft rain and the imagined ground of the fade was now dry. To play in the rain did not give the seriousness that this business warranted. The proud one would never help her if he saw only a silly child. "I have this mirror that needs fixing, but I'm afraid I cannot do it on my own. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours! Or rather you help fix my mirror and I'll scratch your back! No, offense, but I don't want you scratching my back. Those claws of yours look sharp; you could do with a trimming. Oh! I can trim your nails as well if you fix my mirror! I'm babbling again aren't I?"

Tesseract stared in what might have been disbelief. This little thing in front of him was not paying the price all mortals must pay. She was unafraid. It could only be the work of one other demon. "Could it be? That you have been blessed by **Audacity**?" Tesseract brought his face to hers, but she did not retreat back in trepidation, rather she only made a passing remark about the odor of his breath. "Yes this is that being's work. Seeking freedom from the reflection that binds him. I can smell the presence. But why act now? And why grant such a blessing?"

"Well I don't know about all of that, but I do have this mirror and . . ."

"Ah! No, not blessed, but touched and broken. Left with a hole that allows you to take in more than should be allowed. That hole, that missing piece, it has brought you pleasure, but the cost will be great. Can it be born?"

"Are you saying something dirty? I feel like you're saying something dirty. Not that I mind! I like dirty things sometimes!" Merrill had the audacity to pat the demon softly on what could roughly be consider a purple skinned cheek.

Something akin to a smile crossed the demons face. "How remarkable. You may call me Tesseract little mortal. And yes, I will help you, but not entirely. I will return a portion of your mirror's power for now, but it will come at a cost."

"Truly, Tesseract? How excellent! What will be proper payment?" Merrill's work was about to come to fruition and with that, shining rays of light broke through the cover of the fade's forest.

"Your hands are stained red. Have you noticed yet?" Tesseract stopped long enough for Merrill to nod her head, "They have taken color because by your actions something great has been born. I ask only that you carry a mark of this new child."

The red both ascended and receded from Merrill's hands. Its recession flowed to the horizontal slits she had made on her wrists and left a line of red forever marking where she had made her first cut. The red's ascension rose to her fingertips and pooled on her nails, forever polishing them crimson. The mark was complete. "That is a very pretty shade. I like it," Merrill said admiring her new Vallaslin with wide eyes not considering it to be a true price. But then they started to glow and the glowing hurt. She fell to the ground once more unable to do much more against the burn. _Pride before the fall._

"You should return now little elf. Lest the power you used to summon me run dry, with none left to sustain your own life." The fade began to unravel and Tesseract spoke once more, "Your mark is not one many would wear, but never hide it. And never say I did not fulfill my end of the deal."

* * *

><p>Across from each other they sat each on one piece of the tile prison that formed the seal. Desire danced around them never still, but rather present in all places at once. Their wants filled their minds tauntingly as the mana clouded the room and they awoke beyond the veil in the fade. The power of future gazing is as much an illusion as a reality. The demon granting the gift takes the experience of the seer and pulls on the cosmic string it chooses as the most likely outcome, but there is no guarantee. The blood mage watched as the mana flowed from the witch and then swelled outwards reaching out to the endless strings of possibility, but then like the tide upon a shore it receded once more in towards Morrigan. The tides had been calmed and the pooled mana stayed within Morrigan no longer reaching out to the future.<p>

It was wrong. That was not the proper way for the mana flow if the ritual was to be successful. Theron had thought the demon had played some trick, but he saw Morrigan smile and knew the ritual was successful. The fade shifted trees sprung from the ground, swamps filled muddy holes, and the vision was granted to not one, but both magi. The witch's smile turned to frown as she spoke, "What is he doing here? The vision was meant to be granted to me alone."

Desire's voice sang all around them. No longer was the entity a single construct, it was now present everywhere. "The elf is the broker of this deal. He is the contract upon which we sign. His presence is nonnegotiable and not by my terms, but by the rules themselves."

Morrigan seemed truly uncomfortable with the unknown stipulations of the deal. Theron realized that whatever she was looking for he had not been meant to see. The scene before them had settled, the landscape became stable, and Theron recognized it as the Kocari wilds. Two humans were present in the vision outside a newly built house. One was fully grown no longer in the prime of youth, the years of the maid long past, but in the peak of motherhood. The other was a young girl no more than six or seven. They were mother and child that much clear. Theron gazed upon the mother. A light dusting of crow's feet, almost non-present, colored the corner of her golden eyes. The eyes of a predator accentuated the raven black hair that had not yet been touched by grey. The dark hair was no longer drawn up in regal fashion as was customary, rather it was allowed to flow freely down the length of her shoulders, but two strips had been gathered and bound back and up giving the impression of horns. Her skin was still pale and pretty even with the hints of wrinkles that made themselves known. Theron smiled Morrigan had aged quite well all things considered.

Morrigan paid the older woman no attention. It was the girl she watched with a look Theron had never seen upon her face. It seemed sad, but with a fondness he did not think her capable of. "Looks like you have diapers and suckling babes in your future." Theron laughed, but his jest was ignored. Morrigan was far too entrenched in the events of the vision. The girl was small, but bolder than most her age that much could be seen in her eyes and sly smile. The girl had the same gold eyes, they were not quite predator, but nor could they be called prey.

The little one jumped about challenging the denizens of the swamp in front of the house. The toads croaked at her challenge causing her to balloon her own cheeks out in imitation. She giggled walking ever closer to the water to catch her prey and then the mother spoke, "Careful now girl. I don't want to have to follow you into the water if you fall." Theron thought age had made Morrigan's voice a bit raspier, but the accent was the same.

The girl jumped suddenly into the swamp to the mother's surprise, but emerged with the toad croaking in her hands. Her prize was caught and she smiled mischievously as she swam back to her mother. She looked up at her mother still with smile and wet clumps of dark hair clinging to her young face. "Mother will you kiss it?" She held up the toad giggling once more.

The mother laughed and she did kiss, but it was not the toad her lips touched. Her lips met her daughter's wet forehead and the girl blushed. "Clever sweet girl, you taught yourself to swim?" Her mother looked oddly proud and when she spoke her voice was kind with approval and something else. "How will I ever keep one so bold?"

The girl continued to play with her new pet, while the mother strolled to the house and knocked upon the door. Morrigan sat forward this was the critical moment. The child looked back to her mother as the door opened. Behind it was another woman younger than the mother, but older than the daughter. Her features were obscured as if a shadow had suddenly enveloped them. The girl went back to playing with her toad and the door closed.

"No! It must go further," Morrigan demanded. When she went to rise she stood no longer in the fade, but the mortal world upon the puzzle tiles. Fatigue plagued her expression and she swayed, her legs giving out.

Theron caught her before she collided with floor and set her down gently. "I warned you that future gazing has no practical use," he said quietly to the unconscious witch.

Desire coughed daintily drawing his attention. "I have fulfilled my end. Will you unchain me?"

"And if I like my women chained?" He taunted teasing the entity.

**You made a deal!**

There was nothing feminine about the bellow that erupted from the caged being. "But of course, it was only a joke. I thought you would appreciate the undertones. My mistake I suppose." Theron spilled his blood upon the prison, breaking the tile lock with his crimson key. And the prisoner was now free. Moving suddenly Desire stole the vial of Sten's blood from him and attached it to one of the gold chains around its neck. The vial hung loosely between her bare breasts and behind her the cat now sported a new red patch of fur on its chest.

The demon was on him once more in one last attempt. As Desire spoke its lips were almost touching his. "Blood for the vision a deal joined, but you have also freed me. It would seem I owe you something in exchange." Its hand traveled between the folds of his pants and lingered there in promise. He had, but to accept the deal.

"I think you've already paid me for your freedom," Theron said looking back at Morrigan to see if she was still unconscious. "Besides making a new deal for a few minutes of pleasure is not something I want."

"Would you only last a few minutes? That is discouraging," it mocked so sweetly.

"Oh, should have anticipated that one! You wound my pride, but the answer is still no. I do not want another deal."

"And if I were to offer it freely?" The demon proposed almost believably.

Theron threw aside the hand the tempted him. "There is always a cost."

Desire backed away accepting the rejection with a smile. Not a seductive one or a sly one, but one of approval. "Never have I encountered a mortal so versed in the deal. You are a wicked thing. I think I will enjoy our future games," it approved as it returned into the cat. The cat's eyes glowed red now when it spoke, "I will be off then. I have a Qunari to catch up to."

Theron turned before the cat had left and walked over to Morrigan. Alone they were now and Theron unsheathed his knife. This opportunity would never come so easily, if at all, again. Freedom for an unconscious Morrigan was a sweet deal. _How easy it would be to end it all right now. _"But we're friends!" He declared to no one. He took out another one of his enchanted vials and made a cut on Morrigan's wrist. _So powerful, yet you bleed red just the same._

As the vial filled his mind recalled her desires for a reason he could not understand. _What I want, Warden. Is to see mountains, visit oceans, and step into its waters. I want to experience a city rather than see it in my mind. _The feeling of isolation even amongst family it was something he knew. A frown crossed his face._ What I want warden is to be free. _It was what he wanted too, but in truth we never feel freer than when we are in control. He stowed away the filled vial and healed the cut he had made. "I'm in control now." He closed his eyes feeling tired, but accomplished.

_Free indeed as long as you never cross me._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Well things are finally where I want them to be. I was finally able to reveal what is wrong with Merrill. For those that do not know, and I only make this clear because it is an obscure reference, Audacity is the name of the pride demon that possesses the Keeper in Merrill's final quest line in DA 2. If you are wondering if Tesseract is a reference to another Pride demon in the game it is not, but I needed another pride demon for Merrill to interact with. A tesseract, if you care to know and if you do not know already, is a four dimensional cube . . . sort of. If you are the type to worry about OC's, and I don't blame you if you are, Tesseract is the only one that has multiple scenes and not many at that. I hope you will forgive me this one time. Any other OC's will be nameless and will not be reoccurring characters. Also I finally have Anders, Cullen, Sten, and the desire cat demon all on a collision course, which was supposed to happen earlier. The cat is feeding off Sten. Sten needs a mage. Anders loves cats. Cullen has yet to be screwed with and I think the four of them will make a lovely little group.

Thank you to everyone who has taken time to read my story I truly appreciate it. Finally, please read and review.


	7. The Blood Sacrifice Spell

**AN:** So I accidentally uploaded the rough draft of my chapter rather than the actual thing, if reading the first upload confused you that is most likely the reason why. My thanks go out to **The Grinning Psychopath** for pointing out that something was very off about the chapter in his review. Without it I probably never would have checked.

This is rather embarrassing. I swear this is the first time this has ever happened to me . . .

Anyway here is the finished product. You will notice that it is about twice the size in length. As I said that original upload I took down was a very early rough draft. Well, enjoy.

Chapter 7: The Blood Sacrifice Spell

Familiarity breeds contempt. It was a truth the golem had learned well and after decades of being frozen in place Shale had grown far too familiar with the citizens of Honnleath. Shale had also learned that the depravity of man was unmatched by any other creature. Well, except for birds, but birds are the soulless taken flight. So they did not count.

Man is a blight on the world Shale knew this from experience. It was a local superstition in the village that pissing on the frozen golem would bring one good fortune so it naturally followed that shitting upon the frozen prisoner brought one twice the fortune. This eventually led to fornication beneath the stone construct. The most ambitious of villagers would attempt all three at once. Humans had the oddest obsession with their bodily fluids.

So when the darkspawn came and slaughtered the men, women, and children of the village not a single tear was shed by the golem. Unfortunately the darkspawn proved to be even more tedious than the former occupants so it came as a relief when a group of humans led by an elf and its dog came and purged the village of the darkspawn.

What did not come as a relief was the control rod in the elf's hand. What was even more troubling was the command phrase the little flesh sack said while wearing that smug smile upon his face. Shale would come to despise that look, the golem just knew it.

"Dulen Harn"

The tall human in plate mail unceremoniously dropped a smaller female human on ground near Shale's feet as the golem came to life. The male seemed extremely satisfied with the loud crunch the female's body made as she fell.

"You could have been more gentle about that Alistair," Theron said.

"She could be less of a bitch, Theron."

"Heh, somehow I doubt that."

"Somehow, I doubt I could have been gentler."

Theron chuckled quietly as Leliana seemed to be the only one that noticed the Golem had awakened.

The redheaded human with light blue eyes greeted Shale with the most amiable smile possible and a singsong voice that was attractive and welcoming. Shale wanted to squish her head immediately.

"Hello, I am Leliana. Do you have a name?"

She looked and sounded like something from a song. The compulsion to vomit would have been strong, if golems had been capable of such weakness.

"Leliana, it is a golem it doesn't have a name. It is just a mindless machine that will do m . . . our biding," Theron said slightly amused with the bard.

"Oh, look a mage with control issues. Or perhaps it is an elf suffering from little man syndrome. Or most likely both, how original," the golem finally spoke out.

The shake that went through the blood mage did not go unnoticed. "Is there any chance you are a female golem? I usually only get put in my place by women."

"Golems do not have a gender. For a mage it is not very bright," the Golem's stone face seemed to leer at the warden.

"For a mindless construct you are very talkative," came the reply from Theron.

"Theron!" Leliana scolded, "Must you always be so impolite?" She turned back once again to the awakened golem smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry about him. He really does have control issues, but deep down he really is a sweet heart. He picks daisies in his free time."

Theron snorted in bewilderment, "That some kind of joke?"

"Yes, the truthful sort," Leliana responded and proceeded to ignore his presence once more to his annoyance. "Now may I have your name?" She asked once again to the golem.

"Shale."

"That is a lovely name. It is a pleasure to meet you Shale."

"You are very sweet."

"Oh thank you!"

"It was not a compliment. It makes me want to squish its head." The response left the woman's mouth agape and sent an internal chuckle rumbling in the golem.

The small mage seemed to have had enough of the banter as he angrily stepped forward brandishing the control rod that was the bane of the golem's existence. Once again it would be made to do the bidding of a squishy fleshbag and another mage as well.

"Enough of this. Now shut up, pick up Morrigan, and let's go back to camp."

The golem made to pick up the witch, but stopped as it made a revelation. "I feel no compulsion to do its bidding." Shale said, the golem's voice colored with surprise.

"Oh, well, fuck me." Theron replied. "I guess I'll carry the witch."

Marethari was not smiling.

She had stumbled upon Merrill in a state of undress before. The first time had been surprising. This time it was simply alarming. Marethari looked down at her young apprentice and found her to be unconscious, bleeding from her wrists. Her naturally pale skin was sickly now from the loss of blood and the entirety of her petite form was covered in copper red runes. Despite her vast knowledge Marethari could not, at first glance, make sense of the arcane language that covered Merrill's form.

The Keeper rushed over to Merrill once she recovered from her initial shock. Only Merrill could do this to her. Marethari healed her cuts and held her head in her lap desperately trying to wake her. She would not lose another of her da'len. Not to blood. Not again.

Those runes made from the blood of her charge seemed to glow ever brighter at Marethari's fear and struggle. The ancient twistings and cruel curves of language stretched across the arc of her back, down the length of her legs, and over her chest. Adorned on her head in the small space not marked by her Vallaslin was a smiling face that seemed to mock Marethari as she worked through every healing spell she knew. She threw all of her being into a final spell expending the last of her mana.

Merrill's eyes opened. The sclera stained completely red as a background to her bright green irises. Her voice was rasp and her mind not completely there. "Oh, hello Keeper," Merrill looked down at her bare form and took note of her position in Marethari's lap, "Did we? Oh, no Lanaya will be jealous."

Marethari let go a laugh that was anything, but relieved. "Merrill what did you do? What are these runes?"

"Runes?" Merrill asked weakly, "These aren't runes. I just doodled on myself. Thought I should look proper for the ritual." Merrill tapped her forehead weakly still not completely there, "Look I drew a smiley face."

"What ritual Merrill?" The Keeper demanded.

"The one to summon the demon."

Marethari shuddered and closed her eyes fighting back tears. How could she not have seen this? Why had the winds failed her? Was this her punishment for what she had unleashed upon Zathrian's clan? "Merrill what did you summon," Marethari finally asked with a calmness that only came from shock.

Merrill's voice was a whisper and yet the Keeper heard it clear as day, "A proud one."

Marethari's eyes shot open her hands quaking causing Merrill to shake. Marethari's voice was on the edge of madness, but still calm. "How did you summon a pride demon," she whispered.

"Blood sacrifice spell," Merrill did not notice how the Keeper went still.

"Merrill what did you sacrifice?"

"His name is Tesseract, Keeper. He is really nice for a demon. He even painted my nails this pretty shade of red!" Merrill babbled on completely unaware, "He has bad breath though . . ."

"Merrill, what did you sacrifice to summon the Pride demon?" Marethari's composure no longer held. Her voice was crazed as she yelled.

Merrill looked up proudly with a faint smile and answered, "Lanaya."

It was the feeling of warm liquid drops of an unknown substance splattering across her face that first awoke her, but it was the shameful laughter that brought her to her senses. Her hand shot instinctively to her face to wipe the liquid from her face. Her hand came back red. It was blood.

Her golden eyes shot up and the hazy outline of a sword pointed at her face drew her attention. The sword hilt began from the Warden's shoulder and the point of the blade struck out from his lower back inches from her skull.

Another drop of red fell from the point of the blade to her face as she realized the direction of the attack had been a downward stab meant for her. The warden had taken a blow intended to kill her. Theron had saved her life at the cost of his own.

And yet as he stood dying in front of the darkspawn that had made the strike he was laughing uncontrollably. There was an ecstasy in his laugh that made her uncomfortable as if she was interrupting on something private, something intimate.

"It really has been too long!" The tone of Theron's voice was unnatural; increasing in pitch as the darkspawn slowly began to levitate.

The blood rained down upon them both as Morrigan futilely tried to avoid the downpour. Bloodstained and still unsteady the witch scrambled to her feet backing away. She watched as the Warden pulled the blade from his back out through his shoulder the way it had gone in. It was as Theron's flesh twisted and turned mending itself in disgusting fashion that she first felt it. The tear in the veil caused by the Warden's spell was releasing something powerful.

The presence radiating from that tear was not one she had experienced before and yet she recognized it immediately as Pride. The power was directed with single intent on the Warden's mind and yet her body reacted as if she was the one in danger.

Her mana surrounded her instinctively rising against her bidding. Beads of sweat ran from forehead to chin, from neck to breast. Sweat sprung from the pores on her shoulders and ran down the length of her back. The hairs on her body stood in anticipation as an unnatural chill made its way through her. Her canines enlarged, eyes focused, and muscles flexed, the mana strengthening them to inhuman levels.

And yet for all her power, for all her preparation, she froze for the briefest of seconds in fear. To her great surprise the fool Templar did not seem to be afflicted by the same terror that held her.

Alistair did not freeze he cut down the darkspawn that he had been engaged with and ran to Theron. His sword was pointed at Theron's neck ready, but his posture was unsure.

"Theron?" Alistair asked not wanting to do what must be done.

The elf ignored him as he continued to laugh completely enthralled by whatever unnatural pleasure he was deriving from the spell. Theron did not, however, ignore the arrow that struck him in the shoulder. He staggered back, his laughter ceased, and he slowly pulled the arrow from his shoulder. The wound closed in on itself once more in the same disgusting manner.

Leliana stepped forward an arrow notched pointed at Theron's head there was no hesitation in her stance.

"That wasn't very nice Leliana," Theron teased his now red gaze focused on her entirely.

"You will stop this now. This power, it is unnatural Theron. I will not watch you become an abomination." Leliana's voice was louder than usual not unaffected by the Pride trying to enter the mortal world.

Theron laughed once forcing the still hovering darkspawn to convulse spattering the Bard with blood. Leliana drew her arrow taut against her bowstring as a sad look colored her face. It was when a giant stone golem presumably the same one they had tried to acquire in that village stood behind the Warden, its giant stone hands ready to crush him that Morrigan realized something was amiss.

The Pride demon was gaining no ground on the Theron's mind. Despite the terrifying presence coming from the tear in the veil Theron was holding it back allowing it no foothold into their world. The strength of will that such a feat took silently impressed the witch, but still something had to be done and Morrigan would be damned if she would let herself be the only one who cowered in the face of this power.

As Theron was making some threat to the chantry twit Morrigan stepped forward grabbed the darkspawn's neck and broke it, killing the beast and ending the spell. The veil closed taking with it the unnatural and allowing all present to relax once more. The action drew Theron's attention his eyes turning back to their usual blue.

"Now why did you go and ruin my fun. Leliana looked like she was about to cry. I thought you would have liked that witch," Theron's tone had changed to friendly once more.

Morrigan had a perfectly condescending retort ready, but Leliana was not done.

"Theron this is no joke," Leliana all, but yelled, the scowl on her face amusing the blood mage, "You were nearly possessed!"

Morrigan intruded before Theron could defend himself, "Fool, he was in no danger of being possessed. Our dear Warden here seems to be the first true master of the blood arts in quite some time," She spoke to Leliana, but in the back of her mind she thought only of Theron and how she had underestimated him twice now. "Using such a power and being able to subvert its control is something of legend. Who taught you such an art?"

"That does not make it acceptable to use," Leliana shouted in protest her bow still firmly drawn, "You may think it possible, but it is not. One day you fail and there will be no coming back."

Alistair lowered his sword, "I think and I truly loath to say this, but Morrigan is right. I hesitated because I could not feel the demon in his mind. It was merely . . . around him." Leliana went to protest once more, but Alistair stopped her holding his hands up. "Look I don't like it either, but I know what possession looks like and that wasn't it," Alistair said holding back memories that still haunted him.

"See Morrigan you really do ruin all the fun," Theron scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "And here I was trying to convince you all I was an abomination. What intelligent companions I have!"

Leliana lowered her bow, but gave Theron a look that said she was not done with this discussion, but merely placated for the moment.

"Morrigan," Theron began innocently enough, "While, I do appreciate the support. Do not ever come between me and my spell again." The threat was clear to all despite his tone.

The witch's eyes widened a fraction in surprise. He dared to threaten her? What had changed so much in the time she had been unconscious to give him such confidence?

"Warden," Morrigan responded mocking his innocent tone, "You took a blow that would have ended my life. I am not blind to this. I owe you a debt. I am also not blind to your threat. I am merely choosing to ignore it this once. Consider my debt repaid. Threaten me again and you will face severe consequences."

"Well, how generous," to Morrigan's surprise it was the Golem speaking and not just speaking, but also mocking. "I have a suggestion. You did not allow me to squish its head back in the village. Allow me to squish its head now."

"Ohfuckohfuck!" Theron screamed, "I was only joking I swear!"

"Your golem does not follow your commands?" Morrigan asked, as an eyebrow rose in what might have been amusement.

"Oh you just shut up!"

Lanaya sat in her tent looking into the mirror and eating a peach. It was a preoccupation that she found herself in often. For the past week she had stared into the broken shard from the eluvian that Merrill had given her. The peach obsession had only come in the last few days. The fruit was delicious and she had eaten many in a short time. She had eaten a lot of things in a short time. If she kept up at this pace she would be the biggest elf in the clan. Still, the fruit helped liven the boredom that had befallen her since Keeper Marethari and Merrill had left.

It had been a week since her fellow first had left and she missed Merrill desperately.

Merrill was carefree where she was cautious. Brave where she was timid and distinct where she was plain. And really annoying, but in a way Lanaya had come to appreciate that about her fellow first as well. Merrill had the qualities she wanted and lacked in herself. Lanaya wanted to be brave. She wanted to be carefree. She wanted to be fun. She could do without being annoying.

More importantly than all of that, she liked Merrill. It was a freeing feeling and bitter one as well. For years she had been forced to hear her fellow Lethallan talk about the males of the clan and their interest. Gheyna especially was vocal about her angst for a particular someone.

It was a feeling she did not share and even looked down upon. She looked down upon their gossip in truth because she was jealous. She thought them immature because she had never felt the same for a man. She could not. Not after what the shemlen had done to her.

She gave a vigorous shake of her head. No, what they had done to her had nothing to do with her disinterest in men. She was stronger than that. She had accomplished too much and come too far from the frightened broken girl she had once been. She did not have an interest in men because she liked women and specifically she liked Merrill.

It was a freeing admission and one that made her happy. She now understood the gossip. The feeling of infatuation for someone who could make you smile by simply being in her presence was simply unlike any other emotion. It was a bitter feeling too. Her particular preference was not favored among her adoptive people. Women of the clan were supposed to couple with men it was the only way to ensure the continuation of their people. It was a small part of why she had pursued the position of first, though she would never admit it. Keepers were under no such expectation and for that reason the smallest bit of hope entered her heart. Merrill was, after all, also destined to be Keeper.

It was a hope quickly squashed by the one man she never feared and the one person she admired most of all. The disappointment in her Keeper's eyes was not hidden well despite the neutrality in his voice. Zathrian disapproved of her affection for Merrill that much was clear even if he would not say it directly. What Zatharian had said was that her unfortunate peculiarity was tolerable because of her position as first to the clan. She had no obligation to reproduce and therefore as long as she kept her indiscretions to a minimum they could be forgiven.

She quickly ate another peach hoping the delicious fruit would counter the bitterness in her heart. The sweet nectar ran down her chin as she savored the taste. It brought her thoughts back to Merrill and that made her smile. Merrill would not have taken Zathrian's disappointment to heart. She would have asked him if he had become Keeper because he liked men. The sputtering that would have ensued would have been comical. And all the while Merrill would have been oblivious. Lanaya giggled at the thought, licked the juice from her chin, and made for another peach, as she examined the shard from the eluvian Merrill had given her.

Lanaya found the gift romantic even though Merrill had most likely not had such intentions. Merrill had told her it would be a way for them to keep in touch despite her clan moving to the Free Marches. An eluvian, as ancient Dalish history stated, was used as a long distance communication devise back in the days of Arlathan, back when her people were still immortal. They were a truly rare piece of their people's history. Completely invaluable and yet Merrill had given her a piece as a gift simply so they could keep in touch.

The shard did not work of course, but it was the thought that counted. The truth was that Lanaya would never see Merrill again. Yet here Lanaya sat eating peaches hoping that somehow she would see something other than her own green eyes staring back at her.

"I already miss you Merrill."

"Oh, how splendid I was thinking the exact same thing!"

Lanaya frantically picked up the shard and the green eyes that stared back did not belong to her.

Theron was not really mad. Oh, he had pretended to be furious with Shale's free will in an attempt to intimidate Bodhan into giving him information as to why the control rod had failed. The durgen'len knew nothing other than to suggest that the dwarves of Orzammar might have a fix. More importantly Bodhan had felt threatened enough to offer to be their guide to the ancient home of the underground dwellers. Shale's free will was a minor set back and he had made too many accomplishments thus far to be truly angry. He was in control. 

Still the fact that the golem continued to joke about squishing its head was alarming. In truth he had been overconfident, throwing away caution because of the victory he had over Morrigan. Luckily, Leliana had convinced the golem to join them as an ally, not that it took much convincing. Theron could tell immediately that the golem felt lost in its freedom. It was drowning in its new independence without knowing which way was up and which way lead further into the abyss. If independence was Shale's problem Theron was more than happy to solve. It was a minor set back in a long list of accomplishments.

The talk with Bodhan had been a few days ago. They were slowly making their way to Orzammar now, as Theron was in no rush much to Alistair's disappointment. For now they had stopped in the night to set up camp and continue on their way the following day.

Things were going according to plan, well, mostly. Leliana had proven a nuisance ever since the incident. It was clear the former devote wanted to get Theron alone so that she could voice her disapproval and make her demands. It was also clear that Theron had been doing his best to avoid her.

_No fucking way am I spending another minute alone with that psychopath. _

Avoiding her was growing tiresome, however. The constant offers to help him with his assigned chores were wearing him down and eventually it was clear that she would get him alone whether he liked it or not. She had even gone so far as to offer to help him cook! That was crossing the line. Theron really did enjoy cooking it was his alone time. So when he noticed the outline of a woman inside his tent as he went to bed before his shift. He simply accepted that he was going to have to face Leliana. 

"I knew my charms would wear you down eventually, sister. Just be gentler this time us elves are fragile," Theron joked as he entered his tent.

"You and that twit are engaged in . . . misadventures?" Morrigan responded with an eyebrow raised. "Mother always said blood mages had bad taste, but still the idea is as disgusting as it is surprising." 

"Oh, heh, Morrigan I thought you were a chantry twit for a moment." Theron said genuinely surprised at her presence. Morrigan seldom if ever joined the others around camp. _She must want to summon the demon again._

"And no, in case you haven't noticed I am doing my very best to avoid Leliana. No, doubt she wishes to berate me for that one little incident." Theron responded seriously choosing to take a business-like approach this time. "What do you want Morrigan?"

"I think you know the reason I am here Warden."

"Yes, you wish ravish my body. I know, but I told you my interest is for someone much older," Theron went back to joking his mood changing as it was prone to do.

"That joke was always devoid of humor and now it is simply old," Morrigan responded not amused.

"Yes, old like your mo . . ."

"Enough. I wish to summon the demon the last vision was inadequate," the witch demanded.

"You sure about that? You did pass out last time you know. Though that is not uncommon for first time users. You have not done it before have you?" Theron lied.

"No, but it will not happen again. Come now lest the ground swallow us whole." Morrigan led him out of the tent as Theron followed quietly.

Desire did not greet them kindly as they sat in the middle of the clearing Morrigan had chosen for the ritual. A small creek bitten by frost trickled unevenly. It was colder now that they were closer to the Frostback Mountains. Theron idly ponder how his fellow mage was not shivering in her scanty attire. _Perhaps she is using mana to subvert her fat into the blubber of a walrus._

The Desire demon broke him out of his musings as it hissed at him. "What have you done elf?" The demon sounded afraid. No hint of teasing, no playful flirtation met them. The demon was on the defense.

Theron and Morrigan looked at the demon with matching confusion. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you are on about demon." The elf answered honestly confused.

"You have the stench of Pride upon you. You cast a blood sacrifice spell! Do you know what you have done? Such power is unnatural."

"You wouldn't happen to be related to a certain bard would you?"

"You think your actions a joke?" Its voice boomed and despite the obvious attempt at intimidation Desire's words smelled of true fear. "If Pride has a foothold we are all doomed."

"Your fear is noted demon," Morrigan spat wishing to hurry along with the vision. "But you owe us something."

"I agree with Morrigan this constant foolishness regarding my use of a healing spell has gone on long enough." Theron answered back angrily.

Desire barked a frantic laugh that did not match its usual playful giggling. "You think it is a healing spell? I suppose that could be one application. You do not even comprehend the power you play with. How bold." The flirtations were back once again as Desire came close placing her hands upon his chest. The whole seduction reeked of desperation, however. "Make a deal with me," it requested as its fingers played against his face.

Theron paid the action no mind, "What do you mean it is not a healing spell?"

"No, information comes at a price my big elf," Desire whispered against his lips and offered a kiss.

Morrigan snorted at the display. The demon had been reduced to begging now. She found such weakness distasteful. "You will tell us what you mean now demon." Morrigan said as she threw the demon to the ground away from them.

"No, make me a deal."

Theron wiped his lips after the action in shock. Desire was groveling and he could not comprehend why. "What are your terms?"

"I will tell you the truth of the power you dared to use in exchange for the promise that you will never again summon me while the stink of Pride is upon you," Desire offered as it returned to its feet.

It was a simple enough deal Theron reasoned as he accepted. "Fine, but we still want our vision today. In the future I will hold off on summoning you for some time after my use of the blood sacrifice spell. Now tell me what you meant by saying it is not a healing spell."

Desire paced frantically around them, but seemed placated for the moment. "It is not a healing spell," Its usually playful features took a serious note, "You are signing a contract."

"With who?" It was Morrigan who responded, as Theron was too shocked to think.

"Not who, but what," came the answer, "You are signing a contract with the fade itself. You did not heal yourself. You subverted reality and made the injury ephemeral. Much like the fade you broke the rules of your realm and made the moment in which you were struck down cease to exist. You willed the moment away. In exchange for blood of course." Desire chewed on one long nail before it continued, "Such is the power of the ancient. You spit on them with your very existence elf. You do not mock the Proud without punishment."

"I. . . had no idea," Theron muttered quietly to himself not intending to be heard, not intending for them to know his smallness. "The Keeper told me it was a healing spell. I never even thought to question it."

Morrigan looked upon her fellow mage curiously. This was a side she had never seen from him. He looked small, the confidence and strategy she grudgingly respected was gone and in its place was left confusion. Perhaps even hurt at the betrayal. It made her oddly uncomfortable to gaze upon.

"None of this is particularly relevant to me or our deal demon," Morrigan changed the subject.

"True and I have no wish to be here long. Let's be on with this." The demon dissipated her presence dancing around them once again ever present as the fade took hold.

The mana flowed from the witch and then swelled outwards reaching out to the endless strings of possibility, but then like the tide upon a shore it receded in towards Morrigan.

Theron shook himself angry at the deception. _I am a fool. _In truth it had been so obvious. _A fucking healing spell, I am a fool. _He had been blind to the deception in front of him all because he had offered the Keeper some level of trust. _A fucking fool._

Blind to the deception in front of him . . .

The tides of time, the strings of fate reached out and then receded into the witch. The familiar form of a swamp and two women, the daughter and the mother, came into hazy view. _And now I have to sit through this once more, odd that the future hasn't changed at all. Fool. How could I be so blind to the deception right in front of my eyes?_

The mana continued in and out of the witch. The young girl in the vision jumped into the waters. The mother offered the daughter a kiss. In and out the mana flowed like the tide settling once more in Morrigan.

_Blind! Fucking blind it was there in front of my eyes the whole time. Damn the Keeper._

The Mother greeted a figure at the door of the cabin and she entered. The daughter turned back to play once more. Morrigan tried to enter with mother, but the vision was dissipating quickly.

_Blind. Right in front of my eyes._

"Why will it not work? The vision must go further!" Morrigan yelled in frustration as they returned to the mortal world, Desire did not come back with them.

_Because to gaze into the future you let the mana go out to the strings of possibility. It is a simple concept you self-centered bitch. It is your future so it goes out; it is not about you . . ._

He was blind to the deception in front of his eyes.

"Oh, how could I not have seen it?" Theron said aloud.

"What?" The witch spat not happy with the outcome

The realization came to him, but his blank expression showed he was too emotionally drained to be pleased with his discovery.

"You're the girl and Asha'bellanar the mother. You are not looking into the future, you're looking into the past." Theron answered.

"If that were true . . ." Morrigan began, but Theron would not allow her denial.

"No, not if, it is true," Theron challenged tiredly, "You are trying to take the ability of foresight and apply it to your memory. Foresight is simply mana grasping at the many known variables of the user, calculating the most likely outcome, and then visualizing it. But why apply it to a memory that seems so clear to you anyway?"

The witch was not happy with his analysis. She scowled to show it, but Theron paid her no attention. He was presented with a puzzle to solve. Idly he picked at dead blades of grass, brown from the cold, as he pondered the purpose of Morrigan's actions.

"Ah, that is it. You do not care about your memory. You care about what happens once Asha'bellanar enters the hut with that other woman, but you cannot enter because you have no recollection of what happens. The younger version of you goes back to playing not into the hut. You are trying to take the ritual's ability to calculate variables and visualize the events of what happened in that hut. You do not wish to attain foresight, but rather a pre-sight" Theron conclude quite happy with his deduction. "That is an amazing application of mana! It is severely flawed, but the idea itself is remarkable."

Morrigan could not see the complement for the critique. "My idea is flawed? Pray tell Warden, you think you could do better?" Her voice mocked him, but he could tell somewhere in there she took his words to heart even if she would never admit it.

The blood mage sighed tired of her sensitivity to criticism. "That is not what I meant. I doubt I would have even thought this application in the first place." That seemed to appease her for the moment. Morrigan looked away gazing into the distant night sky. It was devoid of light, the stars covered by ominous dark clouds. The clearing in which they sat had no trees and the ground upon which they sat little grass. It seemed so empty in this place. Quiet, secluded, peaceful, but empty; it was perfect for the ritual.

Theron was the first to break the silence. "You do not trust your mother," the manner in which he said it was not inquisitive. "She really did not send you along with us to spy on me."

"I told as much before, Warden." She still looked into the sky as she spoke. She seemed to long for the air. To see mountains, to step into an ocean's waters, to soar freely is what she wanted, but in truth the witch had always been a caged bird.

"Heh, I just assumed you were lying. I assume everyone is ly . . ." Theron stopped mid-sentence. _Not everyone I suppose. A fucking healing spell. _"What a fool," Theron said bitterly as Morrigan turned to look at him, "Trusting her just because of a familial bond."

"Do not think to judge, Warden," Morrigan returned angrily, "What of your Keeper? It seems you are in no place to cast stones, when hypocrisy colors judgment."

"I was referring to myself," came the answer, "But you are right. We have both been used as pieces by those more powerful than us."

Morrigan sneered at the Warden's assessment because of its truth. "I for one am no one's tool, no matter how powerful. Wallow if you would like blood mage, but I for one intend to rise above those who would wish to control me."

Theron nodded his head in agreement. In truth this is what he had hoped for without knowing. "I have deal I would like to make with you Morrigan," Theron said standing up. His face showed a determination she had not seen before. "I believe I know why your pre-sight has failed and I have an idea of how to make it work. If you will accept?"

"Tis' an enticing offer, but if I accept what is it that you would require in turn?" She asked interested believing he had an idea for he problem.

Theron hesistated, he had been expressly told not to trust his father's ritual with anyone. _I was also expressly told the blood sacrifice was a healing spell. Damn the Keeper. _He steeled himself knowing that his next words would put him in direct combat with Marethari. "I have a ritual that I need to figure out and it requires a partner. Help me with that and I will help you with yours. Help me combat my keeper and I will help you combat yours. And if it comes to it help me kill Marethari and I will help you kill Asha'bellanar."

"And the purpose of this ritual of yours?" She asked once more intrigued, but not sold.

"The attainment of power." Theron saw, in that moment as she stood to meet him, that she had been sold. She had, but to sign the deal.

Her golden stare did not match the hesitation in her words, "And why should I trust you?"

"You should not. Trust plays no role in this. We are friends after all," Theron did not smile as he described their relationship, "We are in equivalent exchange. Mutual benefit shared to further our own goals. I know you know that I am not bluffing when I claim to have a possible solution to your problem. I know you are a skilled enough mage to help me solve my ritual. If you need to trust anything it is only your own skill as a mage. Can you help me with my ritual? Do we have a deal?" Theron offered his hand.

Morrigan looked down at the pale appendage and slapped it away to Theron's surprise, but the soft dark smile on her face told him she agreed. "I find that gesture an intrusive one. Do not do it again. But we have an accord, Warden." The approval in her usually hard, but now soft mien took him by even greater surprise. _She almost appears friendly._

"Good," Theron answered back with a smile of his own, "For now I should be off it is my turn to keep watch. We will convene to discuss our deal further at a later date?"

The silent nod that followed was all he expected, but as he turned and began walking back to camp she spoke words that he never could have anticipated.

"Thank you, Warden," Morrigan said plainly as if to show no gratitude, but it was there.

Theron looked back eyes wide. The moon had come out from behind the clouds forming an aura of dying light around the witch. Her features held no reassuring smile. They held no mocking sneer. She had simply meant what she said. Theron blinked owlishly, "Whatever for?"

"You took a blow that would have ended my life. I am aware of this. You have my thanks."

"You realize I did it for reasons of my own? It really had been too long since I used that spell," Theron regained his composure, "Besides we are friends that means you never have to thank me."

Her eyes leered in suspicion. "How is it that you come to such a conclusion, Warden?"

"Equivalent exchange. It means neither of us is acting selflessly. No gratitude necessary. You will never have to thank, merely offer equivalent repayment."

The witch's laugh filled the night. It was not nearly as harsh a sound as Theron expected it to be. It was actually pleasant all things considered, a soft sound that held just a hint of her usual sarcasm. As she ceased her lips formed a smirk that was not unkind, "Are you implying that my gratitude is a cheap commodity?"

Theron was astounded. Morrigan had made a joke that did not involve insulting him or anyone else. He shook his head in disbelief to which his fellow mage took as sign of his agreement to her joke. So she continued to play along her smirk turning into an amused frown. "I suppose I will have to think of sufficient payment then. You barter like a dwarf caravan, Warden."

Theron had seen all the surprise he could take for the night. Surprise was the greatest of all magic. "Yes, well do not wait too long. I charge interest. You would be ill advised to let it build up." Theron waved her absentmindedly as he began his walk back.

This game they played had changed and there was no going back.

Theron was late, Leliana mused as she sat by the campfire alone. The soft crackling of the wood and the low orange glow offered comfort in the cold. Theron was not in his tent she had checked, he was also not at the fire keeping watch, as he should have been. It was his shift although the revelation that Shale never slept made that an inconsequential problem. She would have to remember to bring up that little bit of information at the next chores meeting. Or she could keep it to herself. She had always been good at acquiring information and storing it away for her convenience. She was also good at cornering and capturing prey. So it came as a great surprise that despite her best efforts that over the past few days Theron had successfully avoided her. It especially stung that despite purposefully setting her tent right next to his he had somehow managed to sneak off in the middle of the night.

The Maker must not have wanted her to see what he was doing at this hour. She smiled when she idly pondered that perhaps he was telling the truth about having a struggling prostate. Still the Maker had told her of his actions with Sten and how he merely took his voice rather than killing him. The action showed some compassion, some small sliver of hope that Theron could be a better person. He just needed guidance. Still the Maker had informed her of all this so why couldn't he tell her if Theron was relieving himself or better yet if he was struggling to relieve himself. She knew an herbal remedy that could be of help in that department.

"You have the oddest sense of privacy rights," Leliana joked, giggling and not expecting an answer. But an answer came unexpectedly as it always did as she fell into the usual trance that followed.

It was not the first time the Maker had graced her mind. The movement of the world became still in His presence. The sounds of world became mute and indescribable warmth filled her. The reassuring silence of the peace He brought was familiar and a smile born of true content grace the bard's comely face. This was the usual experience. She did not hear voices as many cruelly teased. The knowledge the Maker granted simply became known to her mind as a sweet music played.

He made it known that Theron was with Morrigan. If Leliana could have frowned in the warmth of the Maker it would have been then. Morrigan was the last influence the troubled elf needed, but it was not possible to worry in His presence. More knowledge came to her; Theron was helping Morrigan with familial trouble. Leliana found that interesting to know and then the warmth dissipated leaving her empty and scattered. To be made whole and then to have that taken away was not easy, but to follow His way was not meant to be easy. She shivered in the cold that overcame her. Nothing worth doing is easy she reminded herself as depression took hold.

"Familial bonds?" Not for the first time did she question what had been told to her. There must have been more to it than that. She left hand clenched her right hand harshly. No, the Maker did not fail her before. She had the whole story this time. Just like when Theron disappeared with Sten and showed him compassion, Theron was simply helping Morrigan now. Her faith would not be shaken by doubt. The warmth of the fire seemed to spring back to life as doubt left her.

The soft sound of footsteps alerted her to his presence. He had a certain walk she could recognize. The sound was soft, but sure of itself. She turned to greet Theron with a soft smile on her face hoping to liven his temperament, as she knew he had no desire to hear the scolding she was about to give her. But she noticed that he had an amused look something innocent, even, boyish lit his face. It was a face she made whenever a cute animal appeared. It looked completely out of place on him she noted and yet it was a look she hoped would grace him often.

Theron seemed to notice her then, she assumed as the look disappeared, but he did seem angry at her presence despite knowing what was to follow. "I guess I should have expected you. I could not avoid your rebuke forever."

"No, you could not Theron, but you did a very good job," Leliana admitted amused, "Did you resolve your bladder issues or perhaps our dear Morrigan's familial troubles?" She laughed at the look he gave her.

His eyes widened in shock and amazement. She had made him make that expression before and she took pride in that. That look was the only time a glimpse of the good man inside him appeared. It reassured her and gave her a confidence of purpose. He could be a good person.

The look disappeared as quickly as it came. The deceptive smile he wore to hide himself returned. She almost cried out for him to stop. This mask, it did not suit him and his insistence upon wearing it around her when she was trying so hard to make him comfortable was disheartening. As his blue eyes focused on her she sighed and held herself, it was cold again.

"Both, I solved Morrigan's problem by pissing on her." He expected a laugh for that she knew and she gave it to him. Really it would have evoked a laugh from her if she did not feel the futility of her efforts weigh on her. How could she get him to stop hiding behind his worst traits? She was trying so hard perhaps a different approach was in order.

He pulled up a large log and sat close to her. He never willingly did that so there must have been a purpose. The purpose she realized as soon as she looked at his face. The air of a businessman was upon him, the look of a blood mage. It angered her though she did not show it. He presented a widening of the legs a showing of the palms and an exposure of the midsection. These were signs of submission meant to show no harmful intent. He was already instinctively trying to manipulate her. Why could he not just be himself?

Not for the first time she wished she did not have the ability to intuit the true intent of a person from his body language. It made making a real connection difficult, almost impossible. And with Theron it was just too easy to see the falsehood. She needed a new approach. She stood up abruptly before he could speak.

"Follow me," she demanded with a harsh tone that he did not know how to respond to. When he made no attempt to follow she frowned and spoke bitterly, "You have no fear of following Morrigan alone into the night, but you will not show the same courage for someone who means you no harm?"

He made that face again that showed what little good he had in him. "Morrigan does not scare me." She folded her arms angrily before he continued. "You terrify me."

The words did not hurt. They should have, but did not because what he said was the truth. She understood now. He did not trust kindness because it had never been offered to him without cost. A new approach, yes, this would work. "I want to teach you something," she smiled darkly knowing he would not refuse a lesson. He was too much of a child in his curiosity, but that was one of his better traits. Better to incentivize that even if it was a dangerous trait. After a short hesitation he followed.

Theron was growing impatient she could tell as the noise of his fidgeting grew. Still she had to find a suitable location and his growing uncertainty would help her make a real connection. A new approach that is all this is, a new possibly injury prone approach. Soft ground was needed she did not wish to hurt herself or more importantly him with what was to come.

She stopped at a small watering hole. The ground was soft, muddy, but soft. This would be dirtier than she wanted, but that was unavoidable with what she intended to do with him. Still it could have been done for the first time somewhere nice.

"Here this will work," she said finally turning to him to meet his confused and impatient look. She walked up to him before he could speak and hugged him. He must have been truly surprised, as he made no movement. He was uncomfortable too she noted from the rigidness his body held.

Leliana rested her head into the crook of his shoulder hoping her hair didn't smell too bad and slowly positioned one arm under his using it to rub his back reassuringly. The action caused a small twitch in him as she positioned her other arm over his. Her head shook softly into the crook of his should like a cat trying to scratch an itch. A new boldness entered her as she accepted what she must do. This would not be so bad she might even enjoy it. He would not be gentle she knew, but she did not dislike that sort of thing.

Whispering an inaudible apology she turned him off balance, tugged him back against her fiercely once more, spinning and pivoting, and then squatting followed by a spring and finally a toss. It was a perfectly performed hip toss she knew as she felt the air rush out of him. Quickly taking the advantage of the momentary weakness she gained mount position pinning his arms down with her legs far away from the satchel that she knew held her vial of blood. The mount form was poor technique, but that was acceptable. She knew he would not know how to reverse the position. She applied her wait high on his midsection to keep him from throwing her off. Finally she removed the satchel that contained her vial of blood from his waist and tossed it safely from his reach.

"What the fuck you bit . . ."

Leliana's hand shot over his mouth before he could complete the last obscenity. "You will not call me that. Henceforth when I am teaching please use my name or address me as teacher." That wide-eyed look of surprise came upon his face again. She allowed herself a laugh. She liked that look it was a good look. She took her hand of his mouth and placed it over her own as she continued to laugh. The feeling of mud staining her knees did not bother her in the slightest.

"Ok teacher. What was that for?" His voice reflected equal amounts of anger and astonishment.

"I want to make a deal with you. That is what blood mages do, yes?" Leliana said still laughing, "That was a hip toss I purposely did it slowly so you could feel the movement and learn it. Consider it lesson one. Now agree to my deal and I will let you up, if you are well behaved of course," she added teasingly.

"I think it would only be fair if I know the terms to the deal before I agree to them, Leliana." Theron shouted at her.

She beamed at him; he had used her name again. "That is fair I suppose." She eased up on the pressure just a bit and he reacted.

The movement was brute force with no technique behind it what so ever, but at least he reacted quickly. That itself was a good sign. Theron threw her over onto her back the mud soaking into her casual wear. This was dirty and that was good it would allow her to slip easily. He wound up between her legs. He was in full guard that was good her best move was there. He desperately tried to separate and return to feet. His knees slipped against mud and grass, but she held him in place with her legs by closing her guard. Her opponent's arm went under her leg trying to once again brute force the separation of her legs. Leliana smiled knowing she had set him up perfectly once more.

The leg Theron had put his arm under shot over to his shoulder and rested on his neck with her other leg squeezing as well to cause pressure. Lifting her hips up, a movement made easy by the pliable ground, she tugged on the arm still in her guard and pulled it to her chest. Whether the movement embarrassed him, she was unsure. The redness on his face might have been from the pressure, but she allowed herself a smile thinking that it would have been cute in a way if he were embarrassed.

She then pulled the arm on her chest across his neck and placed the leg, not resting on his neck, against his hip. She turned her hips towards the leg resting on his hip making sure to keep his head low on her waist and aligned with her lower boby. The most commonly made mistake was to allow the opponents head to come up too high on the chest. With the position secure Leliana fluidly moved the leg resting on the crook between his neck and shoulders across the back of his neck. Finally, in one motion she took the leg positioned on his hip and locked the ankle of the leg across the back of his neck under the crook of her knee. A perfectly executed Orlesian Triangle Choke was a beautiful submission.

Theron made a satisfying gurgle when she squeezed her knees together creating pressure. The lack of movement from him probably meant he knew the blood flowing to his head was slowly being cut off. It was good that he understood the danger so she loosened up a bit, maintaining the position, but allowing him some breathing room. "This," she said her breath coming out a little quicker because of the exertion, "is called an Orlesian Triangle choke. Again I did it slowly so that you would be able to learn the motions. Consider that lesson two, Theron."

He struggled to lift his face to her now that it positioned near her crotch and tightly held there. Leliana could only see his forehead and blue eyes looking up at her, but she knew he was making that look again. She smiled a new approach was a good thing.

"I think I understand the theory behind the move," He said surprising her, "You don't wash your lower regions for a while and hope the smell knocks you opponent out. Well, I must say you have certainly done a good jo . . . gurk."

Leliana applied pressure once again, but laughed despite herself. This was actually fun. "That is one way to make the move more effective I suppose," she admitted with a wide smile. She eased up once more.

"Yes, I can see that you are a true master. You must have had many men down here before." He grunted as she slapped his head tauntingly.

"Many men even more women," a belly laugh erupted from her when he made that look again.

"As informative as this is. What in Mythal's name are you doing this for? Let me out already!"

"Agree to my deal and I will let you out," she teased her accent seeming to add to the taunt.

"I would if you would tell me what the deal is you nutj . . ." Pressure returned once again.

Leliana's voice was serious this time, as she spoke, "I do not like that term. It is cruel. You will address me by my name, preferably, or by teacher when in lesson." She quickly released pressure and then added it in quick succession laughing as she did at the sounds he made. "Now ask me nicely or I will never release you."

"Fine Leliana will you _please _tell me what the terms of your deal are?" He did not sound happy she noted a little disappointed. This should be an enjoyable experience for him as well or else it just wouldn't be right.

"Yes, I will offer to teach the Orlesian arts of defensive and offensive grappling so that you can better defend yourself in combat and not have to rely so much on . . . other tactics." She bit her lip hoping this would work. He did seem to contemplate the offer so he must have valued it on some level.

"And in return?" He asked quietly.

"You will never cast the blood sacrifice spell on an enemy again," she said and immediately felt him go stiff.

"And if I refuse your deal?"

Leliana's face grew cold, "I will kill you right here, right now." Her tone was serious and she knew that Theron realized she meant it. He was quiet for some time and Leliana grew worried knowing he was thinking. Theron thinking was dangerous.

"I agree," He finally said to her relief.

"Oh, good we have a deal," She smiled.

"Great," he said sarcastically, "Now let me go."

"Nope," came the reply as Leliana rolled him over so that she was now on top, but still maintaining the position, "Lesson three the Orlesian Triangle from top position applies much more pressure and is increasingly difficult to escape from." She ended her lecture knowing Theron was fading fast as his struggles against the weight of her body pressing against his neck grew slower. "The maker says this story is taking too long and that you have a dream to be dreamt. I will take the remainder of your watch and make sure you get back to camp. You are welcome!"

She held the position for just two seconds after he went limp to make sure he was not faking. Leliana stood up feeling sore, but good. It really had been enjoyable.

"I'll need to start stretching again."

He was falling into the earth. Fire, ash, and molten rock obscured his vision and made him cough keeping him from screaming. When he hit the ground he felt his bones shatter and his mind die. This was not right you weren't supposed to be able to die in a dream. Keeper Marethari had told him that once as a boy. The Keeper had told Theron many things that were not true.

Her face smiling, indulgent, and loved appeared before him now. Everything kind and carefree in the old elf was twisted and mocking. He hated that face. Theron bared his teeth and screamed at her, but as his words formed the teeth fell from his mouth one by one. His gums were gushing blood as he frantically tried to put the teeth back in place. The efforts were futile, as each tooth he grabbed became dust in his hands. The blood continued to gush from his mouth coating his tongue in red iron. Hair fell from his head and his skin began to decay. Marethari's face became his own as he watched himself die of old age. You were not supposed to be able to die in a dream. The lies the ones we love tell us.

The fear of growing old is in all of us, whether we admit it or not. Theron fell to his knees his aged joints no longer able to hold him up and his image fell with him becoming a skeleton rot with maggots and dirt. You cannot die in a dream! The lies he believed in his youth. His youth! Yes, youth it could be his salvation, but that was a lie as well. We are never more vulnerable than when we are children.

The skeleton became a young girl, no more than six or seven, with the prettiest green eyes. This girl, she smiled a lot! Her name was Merrill. Theron screamed as his body rose ignoring the laws of reality and his blood ripped from his pores. The blood sacrifice was no healing spell. It was so much more. The young Merrill in front of him laughed in ecstasy as he screamed in pain. She was erasing his existence from reality with the unnatural power and becoming him. This was no healing spell. Her face twisted and melted away as she continued her lust filled laughter. Theron gagged at the sight, but vomited when he saw himself form from her body. Merrill was becoming him. Then the abomination that had his face on Merrill's body slit his throat. You were not supposed to be able to die in a dream.

No more children the answer was not there. He did not have to be a child if he did not will it. Yes, as an adult he could change. He did not have to be a monster. Theron was crawling now frantically trying to run away, but an invisible weight slowed him. The figure before him was now the boy from Lothering. The lies we tell children.

The child spoke asking him not to run. The boy smiled the knife in his hand ready. He just wanted to make his mamae smile! Theron screamed once more at every cut and slash and stab. He no longer held back tears as the child bit into his flesh cannibalizing him. The boy feasted on his heart as Theron's sight faded in death. He was not the monster he merely made them. You were not supposed to be able to die in a dream. Lies, lies, LIES!

He was on his knees now. The liquid running from his eyes, blood. He gagged as ash fell from his mouth suffocating him. He was going to die. He looked up and stared into the face of the Arch Demon. The black serpent eyes of the ancient dragon god were laughing at him.

**Ouy nac ton edi ni a redam.**

"This isn't a dream." Theron sobbed pathetically the ash was still falling from his mouth. He understood the futility now.

**On, isth si oury turefur. Oury ishpunnemt orf ****bellreoni****.**

"I don't want to die." Theron begged his hands now red from the blood that fell from his eyes.

**Ouy oosech ot anced tharer nath gins?**

"No!" Theron begged on his hands and knees.

"Theron w...e u.!"

**Then I will have your legs.**

Darkspawn hoards rose up covering land tainting everything in sight. The world shook with their coming. The beating of their drums caused blood to spring from his ears.

**You know not the game you play grey one.**

"Theron w...e u.!"

"I give up! I don't want to play!" He screamed sobbing harder now.

**I will have your legs. **

The great dragon turned its head to take them. The teeth came down against bone.

"Theron wake up!"

The blood mage screamed and flailed against the body that was shaking him, trying to take his legs, but after a while he realized it was only Alistair. Sweat dripped from his forehead to his mouth coating his tongue in salt. Alistair looked at him in pity. It was a look Theron hated, disgust. An order he hated, the Grey Wardens. A man he now hated too for representing these things, Alistair.

"Bad dreams right?" Alistair said understanding, "You should eat something it helps."

"I think it was something I ate." Theron joked it was his defense mechanism, but his voice was not playful it was full of rage.

"More like drank," Alistair joked back thinking Theron's words a good sign, "As in the tainted blood. But since you are the one who cooks perhaps I should be worried?" The former Templar smiled and handed him dried, salted, meat. "Seriously eat something. Duncan," he paused hurt by saying the name, "He always swore it helped."

Theron swatted the food away. His eyes now like a predator, crazed. "Fuck you."

Alistair's eyes rose in shock, but he held back his retort. He had been through this before so he knew anger the first dream could cause. "Look I understand, Theron," Alistair put his mailed hand on his fellow warden's shoulder in solidarity, "I get it the first dream. It shows you the worst things about yourself. I know because I went through it too. All of us Warden's go through it." Alistair continued on not realizing what was building inside.

"But that's why there is all of us. That is what Duncan said once. We are all in this together. All of the other Warden's who helped me when I needed it. You don't get to have that I'm sorry. Loghain took that from you, from us."

Theron slapped Alistair's hand from his shoulder and stood his teeth grinding. The concerned look he gave him only furthered his anger.

"I know your anger, but what I am trying to say is you can rely on me. I'm here no matter what you did. We are Wardens it is what we do. I can help you like Duncan helped me." Alistair said smiling sadly.

Theron looked at him once more. The last mention of Duncan set him off. "Help me?" Theron hissed out slowly, "Your Duncan is the only reason I'm here in the first place." Alistair instinctively took a step back.

"I was just a recruit, a tool for him. You are no different!" Theron bellowed drawing the attention of the rest of their group. "He did not give a care about you. He saw an impressionable fool who he could manipulate. He used you!"

Alistair shook internally at the words, as Leliana came and stood wordless by them trying to figure out what to do.

"Duncan!" Theron laughed hysterically at the name, "I don't care about the wardens and I don't care what they do. I am here because Morrigan's pyscho-bitch of a mother threatened me into compliance. Fuck the wardens" Morrigan fidgeted at the mention of her mother, but otherwise took in the scene silently.

Alistair could feel his hands shaking, but he was holding back his anger. Theron didn't want to be a warden. That was fine, but he was one. Duncan would have wanted him to be there for the troubled mage.

"Fuck the Wardens," Theron screamed again, "You know what I thought when I first heard they were wiped out? I felt ecstatic because it would make my escape that much easier. I hoped you had died too." Theron kept going, "And Duncan? Fuck your Duncan. I hope the darkspawn took his head and defiled his corpse. My only regret about your Duncan is that he does not have a grave for me to piss on!"

Theron found himself on the ground facing the sky with a broken nose bleeding profusely. He never even saw Alistair's fist coming and by the time he gathered his bearings, his fellow warden was gone.

**AN: ** So I have been very busy with life, which has stopped me from posting updates. I hope to be able to write a little more frequently now. The next chapter will end the "prologue" of DAO and will be Alistair and Cullen centric so hopefully you like those characters because Alistair especially plays an important role. I just haven't focused on him yet because the "prologue" required me to set up Theron first. Alistair is basically the second lead in this story, however. And then it is on to the Orzammar storyline, which should cover another 8 chapters by my approximation of my early drafts.

It also occurs to me that I have been too busy and failed in responding to the reviews I receive. So from now on I have decided to respond to the incoming ones in each update.

**Friezer:** You were my first review ever and for that I am very grateful. I don't know if I have kept you as a reader up until this point, I have been really poor at updating consistently, but thank you for the initial encouraging words. And if you are still reading I hope I have not disappointed.

**Pastasentient: **Still the best username I have encountered on this website. I am glad you have found my characterization of Flemeth chilling so far. That was actually one of my big fears about the story. I thought I was taking a lot of the mystique around her character away by having Theron constantly flirt. It is a self-defense mechanism. In any case your words were very encouraging.

**The Grinning Psychopath: **What can I say that I haven't discussed with you already. Oh, I know I can thank you again. Thank you, for your kind reviews and willingness to help.

**Donovan: **Yes, one of the first points I wanted to introduce in my story was the personality shift from Merrill in DAO to DA2. It was originally meant to be a minor plot point, but now it has taken on such a life of its own that I count Merrill as a co-main character along with Theron, Alistair, Morrigan, and Leliana. I promise to try to update more often as well!

**Power Overwhelming and Retirement is Boring: **You both seem oddly familiar if I am wrong in my conclusion I apologize haha. In any case thank you both for the reviews.

**NoGutsNoGlory: **You gave me a review for every chapter up until this point. That means a lot. Not only that, you offered something for me to work on in between your very kind words. You have probably contributed the most to any improvements I might have made up until now. There is nothing I appreciate more.

Now to touch on a few of your review points: The flow that you mentioned in your review to chapter 1 is intentional, well most of the time. Sometimes I try to be cut and dry because that is the way some characters think. It can be hit and miss or get jumbled when I try to switch between them at times, but it is something I continue to work at. And I am glad you brought it up because it means I am at least getting it across, albeit poorly most of the time.

You have read Snow Crash! Neal Stephenson is an author I enjoy reading quite a bit. It is good to see another person on here who has read his work. May I recommend The Great Simoleon Caper if you have not read it already? It is a short story by the same author that may be hard to find, but if you enjoyed Snow Crash there is a good chance you will like this one as well. :)

Finally, on to your point about character relationships and themes, it is my belief that a character is only as good as the characters around her. If a character fails to bring you into the story or if the dynamic between two characters feels rushed and forced the immersion that the reader is supposed to feel will die. I hope I have done a decent enough job so far in that regard. And, yes, Morrigan can definitely be evil I am glad you get that too many seem to ignore that bit to her personality. As for themes I really do fail in that regard only one chapter stands out and the writing in that one felt awkward to me. I am glad the point got to you, however, even though I had to explicitly state it in the chapter and even the title itself. Themes, I feel, should be subtle not in your face. It is the old rule of show not state.

Again thank you for the reviews you offered both criticism and praise a rare thing in reviews that is not nearly appreciated enough.

**Hijiro Kannon: **Thank you for the review. I am relieved to read that you see my writings as in character. Keeping the character's personalities in tact was my biggest concern when I began writing. I changed the histories of many of some of the characters, which can lead to writing them out of character. And that does not even really begin to address what I did with Marethari. She is one of my biggest regrets, but it had to be done for the story to work.

Also I'll try to add in more scrambled words where I can; they are fun to write.

Oddly, enough I've never been a huge anime/manga fan, but Code Geass is one I am familiar with and I loved it. It wasn't afraid to take itself seriously despite being a cartoon and it resulted in such a well-crafted story. Lelouch was a wonderfully compelling character and if you see some similarity between my Theron and Lelouch I will take that as a very flattering, and probably undeserved, compliment.

Again thank you for the review it truly does mean a lot.

Finally thanks to everyone reading my story!


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